


Forget My Regrets

by van_writes



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Gen, Hologram Rick is a protective softie, Hologram rick - Freeform, Past Memories, Protective Rick, Rick Being an Asshole, Rick and Morty - Freeform, Rick's past, alot of cussing, clips you never saw, digging around in beths memories, jerrys lame but kinda a good dad, my first r&m fic please go easy on me, ricks a prick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:27:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27771508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/van_writes/pseuds/van_writes
Summary: Everything's chill until Rick catches Morty in his room with a box he swore no one would ever find. Buncha family drama and memory jumpin' in this one, broh.
Relationships: Rick Sanchez & Beth Smith (Rick and Morty), Rick Sanchez & Morty Smith
Comments: 68
Kudos: 29





	1. • a morty who snoops •

**Author's Note:**

> here we go! my first r&m fic! i really hope you enjoy!~☆
> 
> -van

Rick couldn't stop him in time.

Searing white light claimed his vision, so powerful that he fell unceremoniously to his knees, hands instinctively flying to his face to shield his eyes.

There was no sound.

Rick's first instinct was to call out for Morty, but he found himself instead gasping for breath he unknowingly lost. His world shifted unnaturally beneath him.

There was no even ground to steady himself. There was no garage. And there was no Morty.

Just white.

Rick's head swam despite being almost immune to the sensation–he was rather experienced when it came to dealing with a rough hangover after all– and the scientist weakly fell onto his elbows with a grunt. His old bones rattled painfully at the impact (what was he leaning against?) and he would've let out a belt of curses if he had the breath to spare.

Suddenly, almost as quickly as it had happened, it ended. Rick felt as if he had been tipped backwards just a hair before being brought forward and upright by an unspeakable force, throwing him rather harshly onto his face. The light was gone, Rick assumed, despite having his eyes squeezed tightly shut. The world evened out. And at last, breath filled his lungs.

Rick opened his eyes and sputtered, his face twisted into a grimace. "M-Mor-- _ack_!--rty?" He coughed, his head spinning as he drove his palms into the rather squishy earth and pushing himself upright. Taking a moment to catch his breath, Rick scanned the area.

He was sitting on his knees in a field of very soft grass that swayed ever so slightly in the candy-sweet breeze, making his tongue feel dry and in need of his flask. However, the first 'tree' he saw quickly ended the need for further inspection. Growing not too far away was a rather bulbous tree with blue bark and pink bubblegum leaves that smelled, _well_ , like bubblegum. Surrounding that was a ridiculous variety of flowers and other plants that looked and smelled all too sugary.

 _Shit._ Rick mentally cursed, pinching the bridge of his nose in distaste. _Fuckin' Froopyland._

With another exasperated sigh, Rick got to his feet, noting the ground's slight bounce in result of his movement. No wonder he felt so unbalanced. Rick felt his strength returning with every step he took, so habitually his hand plunged into his lab coat in search of his go-go juice.

_Morty._

Rick nearly spat out the contents of his flask. He had almost forgotten about Morty. About what happened... About how he got here to begin with.

Rick immediately put away his flask before pushing up his sleeve, revealing a simple gadget on his wrist. The watch-looking tool was what most Ricks called, a _"Locate My Morty"_ or a _"LM2 watch"_ and _most_ Ricks had one.

Rick was no exception. Besides, he practically invented it first anyways, or whatever.

Impatiently, Rick tapped the slightly battered screen, his chest suddenly feeling tight with growing anxiety when it didnt respond immediately. He knew for a fact that all Mortys had their own version of the watch too _(Locate My Rick/LMR watch)_ so as soon as one is activated, it should not only ping each others coordinates, but given good reception, make it possible to deliver and receive calls too.

Rick released a breath he didn't know he was holding when the cracked screen glowed to life. With a slight stagger, the coordinates flickered on screen, making Rick hum in relief.

His ease was shortlived however, when he noticed that the given coordinates were unchanging. Unmoving. "God dammit, Morty.." Rick muttered under his breath, running a stressed hand through his disheveled hair.

Morty was more than likely unconscious. If he went through anything like Rick had, he wouldn't be surprised if his little body couldn't take it. Rick didn't let himself ponder on the _other_ possibility for long.

~~_He could be dead._ ~~

Forcing the thoughts away, Rick made a steady stride across the shitty land, his eyes scanning the overly saturated world for anything that even resembled a yellow t-shirt. With a nervous growl–one that he subconsciously hid with a irritated expression– Rick returned his focus on his _LM2_.

Morty's coordinates remained the same, depicting his location to be about half a mile north of where he was now. Easy. Rick could get there in no time at all. He _had_ to.

•

About 10 minutes passed of trekking and Rick's watch let out a warning beep. His half-lidded eyes immediately flickered downward, his stomach clenched as he looked over the screen like a worried mother.

Morty was nearby-- as in, literally _yards_ close.

Rick's attention snapped onto the horizon, and almost immediately he spotted a familiar yellow form lying in the grass.

"Morty!" he gasped more to himself, falling to his knees at the boy's flank, making the ground bounce. A dark claw of fear scraped the pits of his stomach, making hot bile rise in his throat in apprehension. Morty's watch was aglow in response to Rick's, but his grandson was completely still. Instinctively, Rick checked his pulse, cringing as his cold fingertips met warm skin. A gentle throb in response assured him enough to release another sigh of relief.

Despite how peaceful the kid looked, Rick knew he had to get him up. They had to get out of here before–

Morty groaned, his eyes fluttering weakly, halting Rick's weary mind. "R-Rick?" He mumbled, small hand fumbling outward. Once he fully regained his bearings, the teen rubbed his eyes. "W-what happened..?"

Any concern for Morty's well-being dissolved faster than the collapse of the Galactic Federation. "What the _fuck_ do you mean _'what happened'?!"_ Rick snapped, pushing himself up off of his knees with a dramatic huff. "Do you not remember snooping around in my room, Morty? Diggin' around and messin' with shit that doesnt belong to you? _Huh_ , Morty?!"

Morty's face twisted into annoyance as he sat up, his expression matching one of a kid being jerked from bed early on a Saturday. "Y-you're the one l-lying all the time! W-what, what do you expect me to do? S-s-sit back and let you lie to me? To Summer? To Mom?"

Rick clenched his hands into fists, knuckles growing white. "Well, la di da!" He spat back, towering over his grandson as guilty fire simmered in the back of his throat. "Look how much you're helping the family out _now_ , Mo-aughrrt-rty! There's a reason why I expose you to some things and why the rest is none of your goddamn business, but _nooo! Morty knows best!"_

Morty got to his feet, stumbling slightly when the earth wobbled beneath him. "This is Mom's memory, isn't it?" He asked, and Rick silently noted the lack of stammers in his voice. When Rick didn't immediately reply, Morty stepped forward. _"Isn't it?!"_ He pressed again, voice rising in defiance.

Rick shoved him back with one palm, overestimating the amount of force necessary to put his grandson in his place, resulting in Morty stumbling backwards and back into the comforting ground. "Get the hell back and calm your cocky ass down! Now, just like always, _I'm_ the one who's gonna have to f-figure out how to get us out of here." Rick explained before retrieving his flask and taking a long, angry swig.

When Rick did finally spare Morty a look down his nose, the boy's expression had quickly diverted from hurt to a look of icy betrayal towards him. It was a kind of eerie expression to see on Morty, one he hoped to never see again.

Rick blinked away, his brow resting in a very stonewall-straight line above his narrowed eyes. He pretended not to care that Morty's feelings and words mattered.

Right now, he had a bigger fish to fry: getting them the fuck out of there and fast.

Rick knew where he and Morty were.

He swore he would never revisit this. Never, in a hundred years–especially not with his stupid, too-big-for-his-pants grandson. There was a reason why he had this hidden in his room. How in the _entire_ _expanse_ of the _fucking_ multiverse did Morty find it??

Rick rubbed his temple in aggravation. Whatever. It didnt matter. What mattered was that he needed to somehow find a way to disrupt the flow of this memory and get them home.

 _I hope Beth doesn't decide to check up on her old man,_ Rick thought bitterly as he led the way, assuming Morty would follow. He could only _imagine_ her reaction to seeing her son and father lying awkwardly on his bedroom floor in an unconscious heap while also simultaneously violating her memories. It's not that she got them removed per se, _but..._ it was complicated.

The idea of Beth discovering the scene that no doubtedly lay open for anyone to see made Rick inwardly cringe and he found himself walking faster. Beth could not walk in on that. That was between her and him. Not her idiot of a husband, Jerry. Not Summer. And not even Morty.

Speaking of, his whiny grandson was griping about something but was on his heels at least, every step landing with more and more attitude than Rick had anticipated. He figured Morty would have been upset. Defensive over his mother. Heck, sometimes the little turd was defensive over goddamn Jerry.

Still, after seeing Morty in Rick's room with the amber vial of memories in one hand and a small gadget that Rick had made specifically for Beth in the other with no reason other than to fuel his own curiosity and get an insight, was enough to send him into an angry frenzy.

He had quickly shut the door before any moronic member of the family waltzed in and charged towards the boy, fully intent on snatching the vial from his grubby little hands and giving him a fair and honest _Rick-_ lecture about how sifting through shit that didn't belong to him was definitely not cool.

Morty, whose face was already displaying looks of realization upon discovering the hidden box to begin with, must've thought it was a _bold_ move to slam the vial into the gadget's slot, setting it off despite Rick threatening him from just a stride away. Stupid little idiot.

"Rick!"

Rick was swiftly brought out of his narcissistic mind, and with a irritable growl, he huffed. "Oh what, _now_ y-you wanna t-talk to me? Reeeaal classic old Morty-move, ri-aauugrt-ght? Huh?" he belched crudely, eyes flitting skyward in bored annoyance. "Givin' the ole silent treatment until something bothers you?"

"R-Rick, whatever! I-I just--"

"You just _what_ , Morty?" The scientist interrupted toxically, spinning on his heels to face the kid. "C-come on, spit-spit it out!"

"I heard _something!_ " he blurted heatedly, his brows furrowed in a confusing-ass mix of fury and childish paranoia. "E-earlier." he added more quietly.

Rick nearly erupted with laughter. "N-no shit, Morty! This isn't friggin' outer space, its--"

The undeniable sound of children laughing made both grandpa and grandson perk up in surprise. The bushes ahead trembled as the sound grew louder-- _closer._

Rick wanted to dissolve in that moment. He knew what was coming. The memory was playing out. Part of him almost wanted to keep Morty from seeing what would happen next, but why did it even matter? Before either of them could argue, a tiny set of hands broke through the unnaturally sweet shrubs to reveal a young boy with dirty blonde hair rush by.

Morty yelped in confusion, and Rick groaned.

_Tommy._


	2. • froopy memories •

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> morty and rick watch the 'honey incident'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go! chapter two! i'm so glad you guys are enjoying it so far ^w^
> 
> -van~☆

Morty watched in a silent stupor as the child ran past, any quips he had brewed for Rick dissolving instantly on his tongue. Already he was growing more and more confused as to what was going on; wasn’t this his mother’s memory? The box he had found in Rick’s room certainly gave him that impression- in permanent marker that is. 

“You can’t catch me!” The little boy’s high-pitched declaration jerked Morty from his thoughts, and he habitually found himself looking back at Rick for assurance. 

Rick rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in return.

A triumphant cry broke through the shrubs in suit of the fleeing boy, and Morty snapped his head towards the new sound. The brush rustled and out leapt a little girl- Morty undoubtedly knew who it was despite looking absolutely shocked- her chubby arms outstretched as she wildly chased the boy. The girl was running full speed their way, and just as she ran past, Morty caught a good glimpse of her face, confirming that she was indeed his mom from the past.

Everything about the little girl’s appearance practically screamed Beth. It was weird to see his mom so… young? Morty’s attention shifted to the little boy. Was that..?

 _Of course not,_ Morty mentally insisted, _Dad’s hair is brown._

“Before you even assault my genius with your idiotic questions, _yes,_ that is your mom, _no,_ that is not your dipshit dad.” Rick belched harshly, taking a massive swig from his flask. 

Morty’s mouth fell open as another question sprang to mind, but he clamped his jaw shut. What was the point in looking to Rick for answers? The whole point of sneaking into his room and finding this memory stash was to dodge his shitty grandpa’s lies. He couldn’t help that Rick somehow was able to come along too. 

Suddenly, a new dread shrouded his thoughts. How long was he and Rick going to be trapped in his mother’s memory? Wasn’t this a mind blower or something? Did these memories work like a clipshow? Obviously not, since they were physically able to explore the memory and interact with the world _(Morty could not get over the fact that the ground literally bounced beneath his feet!)_

With tons of questions hurtling from his mind to his tongue, Morty hastily pinched his lips. He had to figure this out on his own. Rick would do or say anything to make the situation sound like he had it under control–simply utter some _'don't think about it'_ s and _'it doesn't matter'_ s.

Not thinking about things worked sometimes, Morty had to admit. It worked when his morals stood in the way of Rick's plans. When death was practically upon him he would force himself to forget everything that he ever thought was right and follow Rick blindly because his survival depended on it. In fact, the last few times he dealt with situations without Rick weren't exactly good ones. Morty felt a phantom hands crawl up his forearms and he visibly shook the thoughts away. Whether he liked it or not, Rick was here. Better make the most of it. 

_It still wont justify what Mom's memories have to say about you,_ Morty silently promised as Rick shifted on the bouncy ground boredly. _What are you hiding in that big head of yours?_

The two children–now confirmed by Rick to be Beth and her 'friend'– had fallen into a giggling heap on the soft grass a couple of yards away from a sticky looking swamp. _Was that honey?_

Without saying a word, Morty abandoned his grandfather's side in curiosity, cautiously nearing the laughing two forms on the grass. He heard Rick let out a huff of annoyance from behind him before following too. A small twinge of pride coursed through him just then; Rick was following _him!_ Usually it was the other way around. Morty didn't let a smirk play onto his face despite inwardly grinning from ear to ear.

The toddler form of his mother was the first to sit up from the play-fight they had, her light blonde hair chaotically disheveled. "What was that, Tommy? _'Can't catch me?_ '" she boasted, imitating the green-shirted boy with her hands on her hips. 

Tommy let out a groan. "W-whatever! I still, uh, ran faster than you!" 

"Pfft, really? That's the best thing you could come up with?" 

"W-Well, this is your secret hideout, you probably already know where everything is and stuff." 

Morty's interest perked up at that. Secret hideout? He fought the urge to get Rick to elaborate. 

Little Beth's face contorted briefly to panic as her index finger flew to her lips. _"Shhh!"_ she whispered strictly, a tiny spray of spit flying past her lips. She looked both ways, her wavy hair abandoning each shoulder to favor the other with her sudden movement. "You have to make sure you keep this place a _secret."_ She continued quietly. "My daddy told me so, and he is _always_ right. He's super smart and is really good at adding and subtracting." With that, she leaned in close, her eyes wide and wielding secrecy. "And guess what else- _else?"_

Tommy was sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest, his entire attention hanging on Beth's every word. 

"He even knows how to do..." she pauses dramatically. "... _multiplication and division."_

"No way.." Tommy breathed. 

Morty felt Rick stiffen behind him but the man said nothing. Morty stayed quiet too, eyes drifting back to the two kids. 

Tommy's brows knitted together enviously. "Your dad can do all of that?" He asked in disbelief, and Beth nodded defensively. Tommy suddenly looked upset. "W-well, my dad is _super_ strong!" He boasted back, and Morty felt his stomach shift awkwardly as he watched the argument brew. "He can carry me up on his shoulders and play _'astronauts'_ , where I'm the astronaut and he's the space ship!" 

Little Beth's childish face visibly shriveled in dark envy, her eyes flickering downward briefly before hardening. "M-my dad can do anything in the world. He's got his own lab in the gara–" 

"My dad knows how to make the best burgers ever for my birthday parties!" 

"Well, my dad can _actually_ fly– 

"Why doesn't he come to school? I never see him there." 

Morty's mouth felt dry. This time, he spared a glance at Rick, gauging his reaction. 

Rick's jaw was clenched and his eyes were unblinking. He definitely wasn't letting Morty see _exactly_ how he was feeling, but he could tell that whatever Beth and Tommy were talking about struck a chord with him somehow. Not in a way that he's never seen before though. Morty looked away. 

Tommy stood up, legs shaking slightly under the balloon-like ground. "Are you trying to say my dad isn't as good as yours? B-because he is! He's the _best_ dad there ever is!" 

Little Beth's hands balled up into tiny fists. "Oh yeah?" she challenged, and Morty noticed her defiance quiver for a second as if she was trying to decide what she wanted to say. "Well– that's what you think– my dad is smarter than all of the dads in the _universe!"_ she spat back, her novice vocabulary stumbling on the last word. 

Tommy squared up to Beth, his eyes pricking with tears. "You're lying! If your dad is so great, why didn't he show up to our Thanksgiving play last week at the cafeteria? All the kids' parents were there!" He took a step forward. "I bet.. I bet your dad doesn't even exist! You're just-just making it up! You're j-jealous!"

Beth was shaking now, her lip pulled back into a familiar snarl. "My daddy is _real_!" She screamed back, before slamming her palms into Tommy's chest, knocking him backwards. 

The boy let out a startled yelp as he flew off his feet and into the golden candy swamp below, his backside almost immediately being submerged in the sugary trap. "B-Beth!!" He cried, thrashing his arms frantically. "H-help me!" 

Morty watched in horror as his mother stood over the small boy from her safe place on the grassy ledge, her eyes downcast and unfeeling. She watched him _struggle_ . She watched him _cry._

Morty felt sick. He wanted to close his eyes and pretend that the little girl in blue denim overalls wasn't his mother. Did Rick really make that much of an impression on his mom? 

Tommy's increasingly painful cries made Morty spin around to face Rick. "R-Rick, we gotta–we can't just.." he glanced back between his grandfather and the sinking boy, heart in his throat. 

Rick screwed the lid of his flask back on with a growl. "Nothin' you can do, Morty." he stated simply, almost casually. "You of all people should know that this is a memory. You and I, we-we don't actually exist here. We can't interact with anyone here, not even _ourselves_." 

"...Ourselves?" Morty repeated in confusion, earning a 10th sigh of annoyance from Rick. 

"You'll see soon enough." 

Morty watched quietly as Little Beth turned Tommy away, her eyes narrowed. A sick smile graced her lips, one Morty didn't even think was possible for someone so young and innocent to make. Beth simply walked away from the screaming boy, her chubby hand plunging into the pocket of her uncharacteristically cute overalls to withdraw something Morty couldn't quite make out. She seemed to fumble with it for a moment in her hands, rolling it back and forth thoughtfully. 

Morty winced as Tommy's cries for help grew more anguished, more _terrified_ . Before he realized it, he was breaking out in a sweat, his heart hammering in his chest as he fought the urge to run to the swamp's edge and rescue the kid. That kid was fighting for his _life_ ...and Beth– _his own mother_ –was walking away. 

Suddenly, Morty found himself thinking back to some of his earliest memories of his mother. His mom may have a somewhat similar asshole-ish attitude as Rick, but she was always there for him when things went wrong. He remembered when he and Summer were playing outside once, long before Rick stumbled into their lives, and he fell off of an old, rotten tree stump. He had scraped his knee and watched the crimson liquid bead and trickle down his leg with horrified awe before bursting into tears, fearful that he was going to die and never see anyone he loved ever again. 

Mom had swooped in then, like a guardian angel she'd swept him up onto her lap and with skillful hands treated the wound all the while simultaneously showering him with kisses and reassurances. She had dried his tears and stopped the blood and even warned him not to play around the stump again. Everything a mother _should_ do. 

He had missed those days, he shamefully admitted. Now it seemed ever since Rick had come back, his mom had reverted back into this savage little girl filled with jealousy. 

For some reason, Morty briefly wondered what his life would've been like if his drunken grandpa had never walked back into their lives. He shied away from the idea, every hair on the back of his neck standing on end in guilty paranoia. It would be Morty's luck that Rick could read minds or some shit. 

"Morty, don't ask me how I know this but very soon this memory is going to end," Rick's raspy voice was suddenly fast in his ear, making him jump. "Don't do anything stupid. There are still– _he paused to belch_ – c-consequences here in memories, this isn't the goddamn _Christmas Carol_ . You _can_ and _will_ die if you jump off a cliff or fall into honey," he crudely chuckled at the last bit, and Morty felt his stomach flip. 

"W-What the hell, Rick?! H-how could you be so-so-so evil? That-that kid is dying!" He argued back, fingers tugging on his hair in desperation. "And wh-what do you mean we can die?? I thought you said we couldn't interact with–" 

"I said 'we can't interact with _anyone_ not _anything_.' Rick swiftly interjected, a small bit of spittle flying from his matter-of-fact punctuation. "For the most part, Froopyland is safe," the scientist gave a non-pitious glance towards Tommy, where Morty in return gave him a hard frown. "Mostly." 

Before Morty could argue any further, Little Beth had stopped toying around with the small object in her hand–Morty soon realized it was a piece of chalk?–before drawing a small magical line in the air across from herself. 

A tiny rainbow followed her stroke, and at once a door to the outside world appeared and soon Beth disappeared. 

Morty stood in shock as Tommy's squalls for rescue simmered down into terrified whimpers, and it took a moment for him to shake the chills from his forearms despite the fact that Rick had said earlier that Froopyland was made to feel perfectly warm and safe.

The ground started shaking. 

Morty immediately snapped out of his thoughts, hands childishly grabbing onto Rick's lab coat to steady himself. Despite this, the ground trembled even harder, this time, it was enough to make even Rick fall to his knees, therefore Morty too. Fear took hold of his chest then, the wails of Tommy long gone as the world was absorbed in blinding white light. 

He screamed for Rick, either out of terror or blame, and true alarm set in when the lapel of Rick's lab coat suddenly ripped from his grasp. 

There was so much light, burning light that seemingly singed his lashes and boiled the tears that pricked the corner of his eyes. 

It took a moment to realize he wasn't grounded on the fun, springy ground of Froopyland anymore, and that he was floating _backwards_. He instinctually lashed out his arms within the blank void in a futile attempt to gain control, and his heart hammered even harder in his chest when no wind swept through his fingers. 

Morty couldn't breathe. 

His hands flew up to his throat, fingers turning into strangled claws as he sputtered for breath. 

The seconds following were brutal. 

The light suddenly vanished into complete darkness and his tiny frame was thrown forward with inconceivable speed and efficiency. 

Morty's head slammed into plush carpet.


	3. • summertime storms •

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rick is starting to feel the guilt now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda an emotional one for rick ;.;
> 
> i hope you enjoy this chapter and stay tuned for the next! 
> 
> -van~☆

Not any of his cruelest hangovers could even _compare_ to the shit Rick was going through right now. 

When he finally came to– _his head was spinning like a bitch_ –he let out a long and pained groan. After his old eyes finally adjusted, Rick decided to check and see if his shitty grandson was at his side. Rick's stomach dropped when he lifted himself up and looked over each flank to find Morty was nowhere to be seen. 

Rick wasn't that surprised. He had predicted they would've been separated again, hence why he last-minute explained to the kid that _yes, you could indeed die in a past that didn't even belong to you._

The only thing that ~~_made Rick worry_~~ got under his usually thick skin was the fact that Morty, being a pubescent, overly-emotional, tit-of-a-grandson, was probably freaking the _fuck_ out right now. And when Morty freaked out, he did reeeaally stupid shit. Like, more stupid than his _usual_ stupid. 

Rick rubbed his eyes wearily, leaning back on his groaning knees. When he finally had the energy to give a damn, he scanned the area. He was sitting on the bathroom floor of their current home. The lights were off for some reason, he realized. Rick noticed a few differences right off the bat–the walls were painted that _god-awful_ piss yellow colour– but other than a few changes, everything seemed relatively familiar. 

Rick got to his feet, disgusted with how close his face was with the moldy shower, before brushing off his hands. _Did germs exist here?_

Before Rick could even think about withdrawing his flask, a sharp inhale of breath sounded just behind him. He wouldn't have admitted to anyone that it startled him and so, he casually turned to face the sound despite not needing to put up a front. Morty wasn't there. 

Sitting rigidly on the closed toilet seat was none other than his teenaged daughter, her face hidden almost completely by a curtain of greasy blonde hair. He felt his chest tighten with apprehension as he watched her snivel and occasionally curse under her breath.

She was clutching her head in her hands in anguish, fingers tangled in her uncharacteristically dirty hair. 

Sitting on the sink's edge was a pregnancy test. 

"Shit," Rick cursed aloud, his own eyes casting down. His hand twitched towards his lab coat pocket again, but teenaged Beth's sudden shift on the seat makes him freeze mid-action. 

Rick noticed a gentle patter of rain outside during the silence. 

Light suddenly appeared from underneath the door and it wasn't long before a shadow of feet appeared at the center. Rick raised a brow in skeptic curiosity. 

Rick didn't recall this memory. 

The shadow seemed to shift back and forth almost nervously, even at one point disappearing altogether. It wasn't long before the feet returned however, and soon a light knock sounded on the opposite side of the door. 

Rick immediately knew who it was just by the deliverance of the knock– a timid, weak-ass rap against the wood that only managed to send a cowardly request for entry and nothing more. 

"B-Beth?" 

Rick and Beth both simultaneously looked up at the door in annoyance. 

An awkward silence followed before another shy tap sounded again. 

"Beth, _please,"_ Jerry whined,– _God how pathetic–_ his feet shuffling anxiously on the other side. "Sweetie, just let me i–" 

"Just fucking leave, Jerry!" Beth screamed from her perch on the toilet seat, her head snapping up to reveal her reddened face. Her eyes were glazed with so much emotion; fat, bubbly tears clinging to her mascara-free lashes as she stared past Rick and at the locked door. 

If feet could flinch, Jerry's sure did. 

Rick stood awkwardly next to the shower, being enclosed in such a small space with his daughter feeling almost foreign to him. He could _feel_ the raw emotion radiating off of her like merciless rays of a sun. 

Her fury. Her pain. Her desires. 

Her _fear._

Rick wanted nothing more in that moment than to embrace his daughter. To sandwich her between two slices of _anything_ but the half-baked cries of Jerry outside the door, whimpering like a kicked puppy. 

_Fuck you, Jerry._ He growled silently, this time, successfully withdrawing his flask in one angry jab to his pocket. Like a baby with a pacifier, he stuck the lip of the bottle between his teeth and bit down as he tipped it back, relishing the burn of alcohol as it rushed down his throat. 

Beth's head fell back into her hands. "J-just fucking _leave_.." she repeated, only her voice had fallen to a ragged whisper. There was absolutely no way Jerry would've heard that.

 _That's because it wasn't directed to him, dipshit._

Guilt struck Rick hard like the back of a hand, bile almost immediately rising up after taking such a huge and greedy swig from his flask. He swallowed thickly and spared a glance at the pitiful shadow at the base of the bathroom door, the only source of light to illuminate the room other than the occasional flicker of lightning from the small window on the opposite wall. 

"Beth," Jerry's voice once again sounded outside, heavy with sincerity. "I-I know you're upset. The flat tire…" his voice softened and Beth visibly flinched. "You're afraid and you feel like no–no matter what–e-everything you do is wrong. Truth is, I felt the same way about myself," Jerry mumbled the last part, and Rick's curiosity piqued just the slightest. 

"But then I met _you!"_ His future son-in-law suddenly exclaimed from behind the door, and Beth gasped.

He narrowed his eyes. 

"You're perfect in _every_ possible way, Beth Sanchez. The way you laugh, the way you smile, heck, even when y-you're angry!" he chuckled nervously and Rick caught sight of Beth's lips quirk upward just a tiny bit. 

"Never before in my entire life have I met someone so beautiful, smart, confident..." he trailed dreamily. "And I can't stand seeing you this way, please..just..just let someone _in_." Jerry's voice hit a chord Rick had admittedly never heard before. It was kind of impressive. 

The ground suddenly shifted, and Rick had to make a frantic grab for the shower curtains to keep himself upright. 

Beth had suddenly stood up, abandoning her safe spot in the darkest corner of the bathroom and apparently immune to the sudden reposition of the floor, made a tearful stride to the bathroom door. 

Rick crumpled to the floor as the ground moved even further towards the door, as if Beth's sudden decision to move to the other side of the room imbalanced it somehow. 

The lock unbolted. 

The door creaked open. 

And Rick Sanchez's daughter fell right into Jerry Smith's open arms.

•

The next few transitions were quick for Rick, and thankfully _far_ less painful. As soon as Beth had opened the bathroom door, the outside light took hold of the space, making for a clear jump into the next memory without all of the extra torture. 

When Rick blinked his eyes open, he found himself sitting in a painfully uncomfortable metal chair, his head in his hands, waiting. Suddenly, Rick noticed a young version of Jerry to his left –probably 17 or 18 years old– stumble to his feet at the sound of his name being called by a nurse. He was clad in an olive green button up with a white t-shirt underneath and khaki pants; a look Rick yawned at. 

_Still a doofus in those cheap threads,_ he grumbled to himself, rising to his feet slowly to follow his overly enthusiastic son-in-law out of the waiting room. 

Young Jerry's shoes squelched on the linoleum floors as he turned the corner leading into the _Private Room,_ and Rick spared a glance out of the hospital window before stopping at the threshold. 

It was early morning and rain was pummeling the cars in the hospital parking lot with the ferocity of hail. Rick huffed stiffly and stepped into the room after Jerry. 

The first thing his eyes made contact with was a squalling, pink-skinned baby with fiery strands of hair atop its head. It was wrapped snuggly in his daughter's arms. His heart stammered.

Beth's tired eyes drifted up from her _own_ daughter's face and passed over Rick without a hitch before settling lovingly on Jerry. She smiled at him weakly and Rick scowled. 

Jerry–who Rick finally noticed to be absolutely _drenched_ in rainwater– was frozen where he stood, his face flashing with emotion. 

_"Oh God, Beth.."_ the teen breathed, his entire being trembling with joy. "She's absolutely _beautiful."_

Rick stood behind Jerry as an unfeeling ghost, his face bearing no emotion. He watched them as if he was watching a _Hallmark: Christmas in July_ special, his teeth clenched. It wasn't anger.. But what did Rick know? Describing his emotions wasn't exactly his strong suit.

"Summer," Beth hummed suddenly, and Rick's head snapped up. "It's my favorite season."

Squirrely teenaged Jerry had at some point fallen to one knee at Beth's bedside, his eyes round and glassy. "Really?" He asked naively, and Rick rolled his eyes whereas Beth laughed. 

Beth shifted the baby– obviously Summer– in her arms, giving Rick an even _better_ look at his granddaughter. 

Any form of disgust Rick had had for everyone in that room melted away in a heartbeat. Even for dumbass Jerry. 

Baby Summer's face was something Rick had undervalued when he had originally gotten word from the lousy Citadel Ricks _years_ ago. 

Now, seeing her in her first few hours, possibly even _minutes_ of life was far more beautiful than _any_ of the brightest nebulas in space. He felt his knees buckle and before he knew it, he too was grounded at Jerry's side. 

_Hi, little Sum Sum,_ Rick greeted the baby silently, his hand reaching out tentatively. _I'm your grandpa._

Rick's fingers were shaking as they neared Summer's tiny head. 

Just before he could make the life-changing contact, everything flashed white and disappeared. 


	4. • two left feet •

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> morty finds a small sliver of appreciation for jerry

Warmth spread across his cheek, but not in a way that was very comforting. Morty awoke with whimper, feeling the familiar sting of a carpet burn hot under his left eye. He was instantly reminded of all the times he and Rick or Summer had wrestled, whether playfully or not, and lost, almost always resulting in the meanest of carpet burns. 

Besides that, the first thing Morty noticed was the erratic flashing and whirling of coloured lights and the growing rumble of bass beats. Groggily, he sat up, his mind fogged and fuzzy. It took a solid ten seconds before Morty realized that he was lying alone on a small walkway leading to a gymnasium filled to the brim with dancing teens. 

_Where am I?_ Morty thought, rubbing the back of his head before belting out a hiss of pain. _Is this a school?_

Morty determined fairly quickly that he was definitely not lying on the floor of his own school, Harry Herpson High, but rather an entirely different school altogether. 

A small bout of anxiety trickled down his spine when he realized that Rick was not with him this time. Instinctively, Morty tapped his _LMR watch_ , startling it aglow. He attempted to pin Rick's location, only to receive a failed _ping!_ in response. 

"Oh sh-shit," Morty stammered, tapping the watch again, this time more frantic. Was Rick dead? That had to be the case, right? Never before had Morty's watch failed to track his grandpa, and surely Rick wouldn't have deactivated his for shits and giggles, even if he was a jerk at times. 

His watch chirped again stubbornly, proudly displaying the words: _failure to Locate Rick®_

Morty gulped. 

_Isn't this what you wanted?_ he reminded himself grimly. _You have to do this, with or without him._

Without giving himself time to debate it any longer, Morty shuffled to his feet, already feeling completely lost and small. Rick wasn't here to protect him. More gravely, he also recalled Rick's warning before being separated by that bright ass light. If he died here, he died in real life. 

Cautiously, Morty stepped into the bustling gym.

•

Morty found out in seconds that Rick was right. 

He _definitely_ could not interact with anyone. He had found himself cowering in fear when two rather buff jocks came striding towards him without an ounce of remorse in their eyes, only to suddenly pass through him like a ghost. 

Morty had gripped his own shirt and pounded his chest in a panic, desperately trying to prove to himself that he was tangible and alive. As more time went on, he started to wonder if he was already dead at this point. Knowing Rick, he probably was, and his equally dead grandpa would more than likely enjoy feeding him lies just to keep him from leaving purgatory. 

Within the chaos and partying, Morty had drifted to the less bustling end of the dance floor despite coming to the conclusion that to everyone he was nonexistent. Lights bounced around the room as the music's tempo reduced into that of a slow and steady beat, prompting lovers to abandon their tables and claim the dance floor. Morty only then caught sight of a dull banner hanging just above their heads: _Ballard High School Prom_

A familiar head of blonde hair waltzed past Morty in a blur, making him gasp in surprise. Whirling around, he gave chase, ignoring his rational thoughts as he passed through individuals like Danny _fucking_ Phantom. 

He spotted the blonde teen as she strode across the court, her arms tucked shyly behind her back as she weaved through the crowd. She was wearing a red, satin off-the-shoulder dress that caught and reflected the light of the disco ball overhead; quite honestly working as a perfect beacon for Morty since there were so many people blocking his view.

When Morty had finally caught up, he found himself blinking rapidly at what he saw next. 

Standing nervously in the corner of the gym was a tall, trembling teen boy dressed in a black tux and slacks (also donning the _shiniest,_ most polished shoes Morty had ever seen in his life.) 

As he got closer, realization slammed full force into Morty like a truck. 

"D-Dad?!" he yelped aloud, voice cracking with underuse. In awe, Morty circled the teen version of his father, analyzing every aspect of the boy with a mental image of his present day dad shrouding his mind. 

Morty nearly shit his pants when the blonde teen from earlier suddenly stepped through him from behind, inducing another panic attack almost immediately. _Y-you're not dead, you're not dead, you're not dead, you're not dead.._

Jerry's voice pulled Morty from his frantic mantra.

"O-Oh! I-I didn't th-think–" 

"Didn't think I'd show up to the most popular event of _every_ highschooler's lifetime?" the red-dressed girl swiftly interrupted, at once indirectly confirming her identity to Morty. 

_Mom._

Teen Jerry shifted uncomfortably, and Morty cringed when he noticed a tiny golden _R2D2_ pin gleam proudly on his father's lapel. 

_Damn, that's lame,_ Morty admitted to himself, briefly realizing how much he sounded like Rick in the moment.

Jerry's face was hard to read in the darkness of the room, the occasional flash of the strobe lights only offering Morty a glimpse of the growing blush colouring his cheeks. “R-right,” he simply replied, the living definition of awkward. “Y-you… you look very pretty tonight.” 

Teen Beth visibly winced at that, prompting Morty to shield his eyes in second-hand embarrassment. Watching his father miserably fail at serenading his mother was like tuning in to _Titanic: The Podcast._ It was just absolutely _painful_ to listen to- and not in the good, emotional way.

Despite Jerry’s terrible attempt at flattery, Beth seemed to honor his endeavor anyways. “Haha, thanks.” Morty noticed her eyes flit down and then back up, obviously checking Dad out. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you wearing anything but a Star Wars graphic tee here on school grounds,” she joked, her voice taking on a familiar tone. 

Jerry’s brows instantaneously knitted together in indignation. “Hey! It’s a good franchise! I love the little R2D2 robot the mo....st..” he trailed when he noticed Beth return a bored expression. Almost immediately, Dad began to withdraw, his brave, shiny new shoes hesitantly retreating one step backwards in shameful terror. “Damn, s-sorry, now you think I’m a loser, ugh God.. m-maybe I should just g-”

Morty’s attention sparked when Beth’s hand shot out, nimble fingers wrapping sternly around a blushing Jerry’s wrist, holding him tightly in place. Her brows furrowed and her face looked surprisingly desperate, a tiny bead of sweat suddenly appearing at her hairline. _“Wait,_ ” she ordered, “D-don’t go. Jerry, I… there’s something about you – nerd energy and all – you just make me feel…” a sigh slipped between her ruby lips. “ _..complete.”_

“Complete?” Jerry repeated in bashful confusion, his eyes flitting skyward sheepishly.

“Complete.” Beth confirmed before a rueful smirk played across her face. “Honestly, I almost forgot what it felt like, y’know? You keep me balanced. I haven't felt that way in a long time...especially since…” she pinched her lips together into a fine line, cutting herself off. 

Jerry cocked his head to the side, but didn't press her to continue. Instead, he offered genuine assurances that actually seemed to feel weighted with a sense of security. Beth had smiled warmly at him and he had smiled back. 

Morty felt a tiny ounce of respect for his father bloom in his heart as he watched the exchange in silence.

He honestly hadn’t known what to expect at this point, and so, he found himself practically on the edge of his seat as he observed some of his parents' first interactions. It was awkward. It was strange. But it was now finally _real._ These were their _actual_ moments. No longer would he have to imagine his parents’ first dance based off of his mother’s drunken rants or his father’s prideful speech over Thanksgiving dinner. Every second shared between the two teens in front of him now was just the portrayal he needed. 

Unmanipulated by his grandfather’s inebriated tongue, Morty was finally scratching the surface of the truth he so long desired.

•

The dance was slow at first, Morty admitted, staggering aside when Beth and Jerry would awkwardly stumble into themselves. He noted how Jerry was already breaking a sweat, constantly running a hand through his dark curls when Beth had looked away.

Teen Beth, who looked ten times more confident than the teen boy across from her, firmly planted her hands onto Jerry’s shoulders. 

“Hey, calm down and just follow my lead,” the blonde teen encouraged quietly. Confidently, she positioned Jerry’s hesitant hands onto her waist before loosely draping her arms around his neck, imitating the dozens of couples around them. Morty started to wonder what it was like to be his dad right now, and redness tickled his own face when he imagined Jessica in his mother's place. 

Jerry seemed to look over his shoulder by this point, as if to question what he was getting himself into. His expression was about as inconsistent as the flickering lights overhead as Beth gently swayed back and forth, prompting them to dance to the slow and passionate beat of the music. 

"S-sorry," Jerry apologized quickly as his shoe slightly stepped over Beth's toes. "I've never been very good at dancing. My parents used to always say I was born with two left feet, haha."

"Jerry, you do realize that phrase wasn't thought up by your parents, right?"

"U-uh, yeah!"

Morty brought the palm of his hand against his forehead with a groan. 

After several heartbeats of silence– with Jerry finally taking charge of the dance without Beth's guidance– the timid teen cleared his throat. 

"My parents, they're good people, y'know," he hummed, finally smiling in a way that made him look more comfortable. "M-maybe you'll get to meet them... someday..?"

Morty had to follow closely behind his dad to gauge his mom's reaction, grateful that he was incorporeal to the passing teens around them. 

Teen Beth's eyes had flitted down, seemingly interested in Jerry's shiny ass shoes and not the conversation his dad was desperately trying to hold. When she did finally look back up into his eyes, hers were to the brim with tears.

Morty was thankful that Jerry noticed Beth's eyes glisten in the low light, finally glad his father wasn't completely unaware of what was happening directly in front of him. 

"Beth, are you okay?" he asked quietly, stammer suddenly absent from his voice. 

Mom's face grew rigid as she fought back a wave of emotion. "What?" she feigned surprise, her eyes briefly looking up in an attempt to stop the tears from falling. Her body trembled visibly. "I think I've just got an eyelash in my–"

"Beth." Jerry had stopped dancing. 

It took a moment before Beth stopped too, seemingly so caught up in her head to notice Jerry's halt. Her arms immediately retracted from around his neck and she stepped back, the heel of her shoe suddenly slipping out from under her.

Father and son moved as one.

Morty gasped and sprung instinctively into action, forgetting entirely that he was a phantom in this situation. Almost immediately his hands passed through his mom's wrist and he let out a yelp of surprise as she continued to fall. 

Jerry lunged forward, catching her from under her arms with his own, his shoes protesting heavily against the polished court. The music continued without a hitch, but even Morty noticed the surrounding couples gasp and gape. Beth noticed too. Without a word, Jerry rushed Beth off of the dance floor and away from the crowd of sneering classmates, easily leaving Morty behind.

Morty bounded after his parents as they escaped the glares and whispers, the steady romantic thrums of music echoing tauntingly as they fled. They rushed down the carpeted corridor before seeking refuge in a small storage closet a couple of strides away from where Morty had originally woken up. 

Without thought, Morty quickly ducked down before collapsing in a sputtering heap on the supply-ridden floor. He soon found himself sitting quite uncomfortably against a wet floor sign, if that was even what it was. It was so dark that he didn't even notice Beth sit down beside him until she let out a hushed sob into her shaking hands.

There was a brief _clink! clink!_ above his head that made him look up– undeniably the sound of a beaded cord tapping delicately against a hanging light bulb– before warm amber light filled the small space.

Jerry stood frigidly with his back at the closed door, his hand finally falling to his side from its place above his head where he had turned the lights on. His brown eyes noticeably flickered with concern when he noticed Beth was a sobbing mess on the floor. Quietly, he crouched down at her side, a supportive hand hovering hesitantly over her shoulder.

"Beth.. did I say something… wrong?"

Morty hugged his knees when Beth didn't respond. After a moment, he spared a glance towards his mother, surprised to find her face twisted with anger.

"You don't have to meet my parents I was just–"

"It's not your _goddamn_ parents, Jerry."

"Then what is it about?"

"It's stupid. Just f-forget it."

Morty was practically pulling his hair out in frustration. Despite being physically invisible, he could _feel_ the tension in the cramped room. He leaned against the wet floor sign _(he could definitely confirm now that the lights were on)_ and watched with half-lidded eyes. 

The rest of their conversation was a blur. 

Jerry had asked about Beth's parents. 

Beth initially refused to open up but something about the way Jerry had looked into her eyes made her crack open and like a dam under pressure, she broke. Secrets upon secrets billowed from her trembling lips like steam from an engine, and Morty absorbed it with his mouth agape.

Morty heard _everything._

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a dark shadow in the niche of the closet.

Morty didn't think anything of it at first. That is, until the shadow stretched upright, growing taller with every sentence that was crafted by his mother's tongue.

Morty could hardly hear Beth's words now, his attention suddenly shifted entirely onto the looming figure. 

_"...my father…"_

Gangly limbs formed. 

_"...my mother.."_

Fingers snapped into long spidery claws.

_"...my life changed so much.."_

A head with familiar flicks of hair established itself onto the base of a skinny neck. Morty got to his feet in an instant, his lungs contracting in horror.

_"...save me.."_

Two gleaming eyes appeared and shockingly stared straight into Morty's.

His blood turned into ice.

Standing over his mom and dad was the indisputable silhouette of Rick Sanchez.

And it was _definitely_ looking right at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh oh


	5. • out on a limb •

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> little summer climbs a tree and rick finds something in his pocket

"Summer Smith, get down from that tree _this instant!"_

Rick would be lying if he'd said he hadn't freaked the hell out when he opened his eyes and found himself perched 15 feet in the fucking air on a skinny ass tree branch like a local park squirrel. He spat out nearly every bad word in 6 different alien tongues before he got his shit together. He briefly thanked God–no really, he did– that Morty wasn't there to witness his outburst. 

Knowing Morty, the kid would've probably blackmailed him for it or some shit to go on another adventure with the messed up _Vindicators_ crew. Rick cringed at the thought. 

Now with his priorities straight, Rick decided to take a look around himself. He was sitting very nimbly on a narrow branch high off of the ground and, upon further inspection, high above two familiar faces wrinkled with worry. 

A _younger_ adult version of Beth and Jerry stood just underneath the oak, their necks craned up and eyes squinted harshly against the cool autumn breeze. There was a shit ton of dead leaves on the ground, Rick noted. Had to be mid October at least. 

Suddenly without warning, Rick's branch shook violently underneath him, prompting a string of _fuck!_ 's and a frantic grab for balance. If he fell off this branch, he could very possibly die. What a death that would be. 

_Rick Sanchez, smartest man in the universe, dies after falling out of a random, memory-generated tree._ He thought crudely. Looking down the length of the branch, he finally pinned the source of the shaking. 

A young girl was standing closest to the center of the tree, one hand leaned against the heart of the oak for balance while she tested the branch with a few bouncy bends of her band aid-covered knees. 

Rick realized rather quickly that it was a younger version of Summer, possibly 7 or 8 years old by the looks of it. She was wearing a hot pink shirt with a little fabric flower sewn onto the collar that flapped defiantly in the cool wind. Definitely Sum Sum. 

The little girl's small ginger ponytail flew to one shoulder as she flipped her head to look at her parents below, a familiar look of victory plastered on her face. "Mommy! Daddy!" she called triumphantly, her mouth opening wide to reveal a couple of missing teeth. "I'm taller than you guys noooowww!!" 

Even from Rick's place on the most narrow end of the branch he could still see how frantic the new parents were below. Beth's expression was a boiling cauldron of frantic anger, fear, and annoyance as she watched her young daughter teeter on fates' unpredictable seesaw. 

Jerry was at her flank, his fingers clutching his hair in a universal gesture of panic as he paced towards the base of the tree, obviously unsure of what he was doing. 

_Knowing damn well you ain't gonna climb it,_ Rick added silently. He almost rewarded himself with a swig from his flask but realized it might not be worth losing his balance and dying over. He'd be a laughing stock for the Citadel _p_ Ricks for sure if he let that happen. 

The swift autumn breeze acted with murderous intent it seemed, violently causing Rick's limb to tremble beneath his weight– _or was it Little Summer's weight?_ Rick decided not to question it too much and focused more on scooching his old ass closer to the shoulder of the tree instead of clinging onto its dainty fingers. 

Not spending time to ponder if his movements affected memory-Summer in any way, Rick slowly inched his way towards the thicker end of the branch. He would've proudly claimed to have done it effortlessly if not been for Summer's scream in terror. He dug his fingernails into the bark and his muscles tensed badly. 

"Oh my God!" Beth sounded from somewhere below as a scream of her own scraped her panicstricken voice. 

Rick snapped his head up and only managed to gasp _"Holy fuck–"_ just as Summer fell backwards. 

Screeches of horror sounded from every direction and octave it seemed, and Rick unknowingly found himself join in as he watched his little granddaughter plummet 15 feet towards the unforgiving ground. 

Within half a second, he suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of dead leaves being kicked aside and he watched in surprise as a blur of olive leapt forward with protective arms extended. 

Jerry quite literally looked like Superman in that moment; his legs kicked out as he jumped towards his daughter's falling form, his arms reaching in desperation as his fingers prepared to grab. 

Little Summer landed directly into her father's arms with a winded _oomph!_ but physically unscathed at least. Rick watched on from above without a word as Beth rushed towards where Jerry lay with Summer in his arms, quite obviously distressed. Tears were running down her face like waterfalls now, this time colouring her cheeks with two tiny trails of ink in the presence of her makeup. 

"Jerry, baby, oh my God, a-are you okay?" 

"I'm okay, Beth," was Jerry's breathless reply before he sat up on his knees with Summer still held tightly in his arms. "Summer, are you hurt?" 

Little Sum Sum looked up blearily, her knees to her chest and legs hanging slightly over Jerry's arms as he cradled her. "Daddy, you caught me!" she finally cheered, flashing the man a wide and toothless smile. 

Rick didn't move. He watched the small family kneel in the bright orange leaves, arms wrapped around each other in a protective hug. Envy burned in his chest but he ignored the urge to douse it with alcohol and instead let out a long sigh. 

The memory flashed white again. And again. And _again_. 

Every memory that was thrown Rick's way made him feel more of the emotions he alienated himself from on a regular basis. 

In a rapid string of flashbacks, Rick watched Beth raise his granddaughter; he had seen as much as her first Christmas to her first beer and everything in between. There were arguments between mother and daughter that resulted in both of them hugging it out in the driveway during a downpour to simple conversations about boys. Memory after memory flickered across Rick's old eyes, each and every one of them building a case against him. 

_What a shitty father you are._ He thought as another memory appeared depicting Beth comforting a sobbing teen Summer after a break up. _Grandpa too._

Rick closed his eyes and at last, the flashing memories faded into white nothingness. 

•

Rick realized that throughout the entire duration of this mindfuck–he wouldn't dare call it an _'adventure'_ – he had not once thought about his portal gun. One of the most wanted tools in the galaxy, birthed by his own brilliant mind, hadn't at all crossed his thoughts during each transition of memories. Had he...lost his desire to escape? Rick's unibrow scrunched in frustration and in an instant he silenced his own ravaging mind. 

When he finally decided to open his eyes, he found himself floating in a familiar white void. No new memories. No Beth. Just white. Rick couldn't decide whether he was comforted or haunted by it to be honest. 

With nothing to work with, he found his hand slowly slipping into the inside of his lab coat. The pocket he reached into was not the home of his most often visited flask, however. 

Rick's fingers wrapped almost naturally around the handle of the portal gun and in an instant he withdrew his hand completely, bringing the weapon to light. He actually had it. This entire time he could have simply portaled home. 

_Is it really that simple?_ A voice nestled deep within his fucked up mind seemed to ask. _Just feels too easy, doesn't it?_

Rick abandoned the dial of the portal gun in favor of his _LM2_ watch. He tapped it twice and it blinked back at him optimistically despite being put through hell. His own inventions had more diligence than he did. Imagine that. 

The screen of his watch pondered a moment, depicting a confused-ass little doodle of Morty during the wait. Rick laughed to himself when he remembered that Morty's watch would do the same but with Rick's face instead. Damn, he designed some stupid shit sometimes.

His _LM2_ let out an annoyed chirp, immediately demanding his attention. The cracked screen flickered again as words appeared, and Rick's eyes widened: _Locate Morty® successful_

Almost immediately afterwards, coordinates were presented and Rick let out a sigh of relief. Upon closer inspection, however, he found that the following details given were a little more nerve wracking. Along with his coordinates, the screen also displayed Morty's heart rate. And right now, it was through the roof at a staggering _170 bpm._

_Either he just saw a memory-version of Jessica or he's freaking the heck out right now._ Rick concluded as he looked away from his wrist. With the coordinates in mind, he decided to give his portal gun a try. 

He gingerly twisted the dial until it matched the information shown on his watch before extending his arm outward and taking aim.

If this worked, he could definitely get them out of here and then he could clean up his grandson's mess. If it didn't... 

Rick squeezed the trigger and he was immediately surrounded by the swirling colour of green.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo! not sure if anyone's actually reading this, but if you are, I really hope you're enjoying what i've gotten so far! :3
> 
> -van~☆


	6. • my regrets •

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> morty and rick aren't getting along... like at all.

Morty was frozen with fear. 

While his mom and dad shared their first kiss, Morty found himself sharing the icy gaze of a black, shadow-like creature that greatly resembled his ass of a grandpa. 

Black goop and mist billowed from its form as it stood eerily in the opposite corner of the closet, its glowing white eyes fixated on Morty's. Tendrils of some sort of black, inky substance swirled threateningly around it's feet like vines, making Morty's blood run cold. Seconds turned into minutes and the closet remained silent save for the occasional murmurs of Beth and Jerry who still sat in each other's embrace on the floor. 

Morty's skin crawled under the piercing gaze, and he felt a familiar bout of apprehension take hold of his body when the beast shifted towards him. His leg muscles, already coiled tight and ready to spring, immediately demanded he run as fast as he could out of the small space. 

And so, without hesitation, he did just that. 

Morty tore down the corridor and back into the gymnasium, his heart slamming violently into his ribcage like a frantic bird in seek of the open skies. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to flee: _don'tlookbackdon'tlookbackdon'tlookback_. 

He had to be hallucinating. He _had_ to be. No one was supposed to be able to see him. Rick had said so. And if there was one thing that Morty had learned with his grandpa around, it was that Rick was _always_ right. 

A warbled roar sounded at his heels, snapping him out of his thoughts. Well, in this case, Rick was definitely wrong about something. Morty pumped his legs faster, sweat beginning to drip off of his temple as he bounded through the oblivious forms of his parents' dancing classmates. , Morty noticed his lungs were starting to burn, and every breath became more difficult to take. Depsite being rather accustomed to running for his life, Morty already found himself starting to wear out. His leg buckled briefly in response to his growing panic but he swiftly regained his footing before putting his entire focus on the double doors leading out of the school. Would it really do him any good to leave the gym? Morty wasn't sure how memory worlds worked, but that didn't really matter at the moment. His goal right now was to put as much space between himself and ~~Rick~~ as he possibly could. Speaking of... 

~~Rick~~ lashed out behind him with claw like fingers, swiping so close in fact, that Morty could feel the wind briefly tease the hairs on the back of his neck in it's wake. 

_**"Mmm-Aughrtt–mMor-orrttyy,"**_ it crooned between breaths, now closer than ever. Morty could hear its footsteps practically replacing his now. 

Morty knew that he shouldn't let that distract him from the fact that he needed to run faster, but he did briefly wonder what the beast wanted. More than likely, it would result in Morty dying. And that was definitely not an option. 

A dragon-like snarl sounded closely in his ear, and before Morty could fully withdraw from his thoughts, long black fingers fastened tightly around his swinging forearm, bringing his running escapade to a staggering halt. Morty gasped in fear, a scream pressed tightly against gritted teeth as he tried free himself. Another hand gripped his flailing free arm and true panic set in as soon as he realized that he was being held tightly in place. Overcome by his attacker's weight, Morty collapsed to his knees with a fretful grunt. 

_Shit, shit shit shit!_

"N-No! No! G-get off!" He yelled ferociously, twisting his lower half around before drawing up his knees to aim his kicks. He managed to land a couple of blows with the heel of his shoe into ~~Rick's~~ chest, feeble at first but gradually growing stronger as adrenaline fueled his muscles. One jab in particular—a swift kick to the shoulder—seemed to do the trick, as the beast at once let out a howl of pain in response. 

~~Rick's~~ grip immediately loosened, at last giving Morty a chance to wriggle out of it's hold. Without hesitation, he scrambled to his feet and away from where ~~Rick~~ lay crouched on one knee, clutching it's arm in assumed agony _(Morty couldn't tell for sure since it didnt really have a face or anything.)_

Not giving it a second thought, Morty turned tail and proceeded through the double doors leading out of the gym without even remotely sparing a glance over his shoulder. When he finally passed through the swinging doors, his face was immediately met with the hot sticky air of late June. 

It was dark out, Morty noted, his wide eyes flitting nervously around the school parking lot for a hiding place. 

_What in the hell was that thing?_ Morty thought as he broke into a jog, eyes pinned on the horizon. _It wasn't my Rick, that's for sure._

A sinister voice seemed to add on to his mental debate. _Or was it?_

Morty found himself nearly out of breath by the time he made it off the campus, and after sparing a couple of fretful looks over his shoulder to ensure he was in the clear, he decided to take a break on a nearby city bench just outside of a local restaurant. 

The pitter patter of dozens of pedestrians walking along the neighboring sidewalk finally met his ears as he calmed himself and examined his surroundings. Judging by the city life and sky, Morty could safely guess that it had to be at least 9:00 P.M. Not that it mattered, anyways. 

What mattered, was that he needed to find a way to get the fuck out of this memory. He had to find Rick. And by Rick, he meant _**HIS**_ Rick. 

Just the thought of the monster that he had just barely escaped from made him take a long anxious look behind him. He had so many questions for his grandpa for when they reunited. 

_So many questions.._ Morty thought bitterly. _I can't wait to find out the–_

Sharp fingers suddenly fastened into the back of his shirt and before he could suck in a breath of surprise, he was hauled backwards in one swift movement. Morty would've screamed if not for what had followed next: he was enveloped in the blazing colour of green. The familiar sound of an open portal made his panic dissipate into shock, and he found himself fall completely still in the grasp of the stranger as he was jerked backwards. Everything happened so fast..

The world flashed and almost immediately Morty's entire body felt like it was on fire. A scream tore out of his throat naturally in response to the pain, but it was surprisingly shortlived as in half a second later, Morty found himself falling flat on his ass in a familiar space. 

The garage. 

"Nghnn.. W-What..what the hell?" he groaned, eyes squinted against the harshness of the light. His head was spinning. His stomach felt icky. His body ached terribly. 

Suddenly, there was a loud shuffle of footsteps just behind him, prompting him to jerk from his hazy stupor to glare up at the towering figure looming over him. 

Spiky hair. Gangly limbs. 

Morty's heartrate immediately spiked. 

In seconds, he scrambled to his feet, hands already clenched so tightly that his fingernails bit harshly into his palms. "Back the fuck off! I-I'm not scared of you!" Morty roared, and without a second of hesitation, he reared back his fist and sent it flying into his attacker's gut. 

Despite the adrenaline being the main cause of driving his fist forward, Morty found himself gritting his teeth as soon as it made contact with his assailant. 

His wrist practically screamed in protest to the punch, and at once Morty lost all faith in every action movie he had ever seen. How in the _fuck_ did they punch people that hard and not hurt their hands? Despite the excruciating pain, Morty felt a twinge of pride course through him when the figure flew backwards with a breathless grunt, obviously not expecting him to fight. 

"What the _f-fuck, Morty?!_ W-what the hell was that for?!" 

At once, Morty's jaw fell agape and panic took hold of his already shaken form. Standing a stride away and slumped on the table of his work bench was none other than his grandpa Rick. No black sludge. No menacing mist. No glowing eyes. It was just... 

"Rick..?!" 

"Wh-who the fuck else would it be?" Rick wheezed before promptly withdrawing his flask and taking a swig. "Jesus Christ.." 

Despite the anger and frustration Morty had felt building up during the course of the memory-jumping, a string of apologies leapt to the tip of his tongue almost immediately. 

"Aw jeez, R-Rick, are you okay?! I-I didn't know--th-there was this thing and–" 

"Save it, Cena," Rick interjected with another cough, his fingers still dug tightly into the fabric of his shirt at his stomach, harshly reminding Morty of the damage he had done. "I've had enough of your fuck ups for one day." 

Morty felt a wave of aggravation return, and at once, all of his burning questions came to mind. He cleared his throat, forcibly silencing his stutter. 

"Why did you hurt Mom, Rick?" he asked bluntly, his voice not yet raised, but louder than a whisper. Rick visibly tensed, his back suddenly facing him. Morty honestly couldn't even remember seeing him turn away. A wave of disgust washed over him when Rick simply shrugged in response, his old shoulders rising and falling carelessly. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Morty demanded, taking two defiant steps forward. "H-How could you?–you abandoned her for so long! L-left her behind on some weird-ass world while she called for you. Cried for you. B-begged for you to come back. She went home one day and you weren't there. She–" 

Before Morty could utter another sentence, Rick had spun around in blur of white and blue, and the feeling of an intense fire slammed full force into his cheek, quite literally rocking his jaw. Despite this, his head did not fly to one side. He did not cry out. He was as still as a statue, completely unblinking. The only change, aside from his now glowing cheekbone, was the furrow of his brows as realization struck. 

Rick had _hit_ him. Hard. Hot fiery tears naturally sprung to his eyes seconds later, practically singeing his corneas as he refused to let them fall. Eventually, the fire ebbed into a smarting sting that made his head buzz and throb, further encouraging his emotions to take control. 

_Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry._

When Morty's gaze finally met Rick's, a single tear slipped rebelliously from his lashes. 

"I want to make something _very_ clear," Rick broke the silence, his blue gaze piercing and merciless. "Never, and I mean _never_ , talk to me like that ever again." 

Morty did not blink. 

Rick's hand plunged into his lab coat, and Morty's mouth moved on it's own. He knew damn well what was going to happen. 

"I knew you would make me f-forget." 

Rick seemed to stop, contemplation clear in his movements. 

Morty reminded himself not to get too hopeful. 

His eyes flitted towards the door of the garage leading back into the house. The deadbolt was locked. He put his focus back onto his grandfather without a second to spare. 

An eerie silence seized the garage then, one that Morty welcomed and despised at the same time. He wanted Rick to defend himself, to talk back and to fight.. but leaving him speechless also felt like a score. As if he were doing his mother justice somehow for the years of abandonment.. 

Rick fully withdrew the memory-wiping gun, and despite holding up his tough front, Morty still found himself flinching away. Rick snickered and Morty felt a chill race down his spine. 

"Are you happy, Morty?" Rick asked coldly, his unibrow raising as he stepped closer. "Finally got _aalll_ of the answers to your burning questions about Mommy?" he twirled the pistol in his hand casually, and Morty audibly gulped. 

"Why are you like this, Rick? Why is it such a big deal that someone else besides you knows that you're a shitty father?" Morty spat back, hands balled into small shaking fists at his sides. 

"Are you fucking kidding me?" came Rick's response, a sarcastic laugh edging his words. "D-do you really think it's a goddamn secret? I'm sure the _entire universe_ knows I'm a shitty fa–" 

"Then why take her memories?!" 

_"They were never removed, dipshit!"_

Instantly, all retorts died on Morty's tongue. Habitually, he found himself resume the position of the gullible, dumbfounded sidekick, his mouth agape as confusion completely took hold of his features. He cursed to himself when Rick noticed. 

"Yeah, not so bold now, are ya?" Rick barked, his aged face tense with fury. "Just because you took it upon you-uuurp!-self to go snooping around in my stuff doesn't suddenly make you Einstein. You think you've found 'secrets' but you haven't found jack shit." 

Morty crossed his arms, trying to hide his curiosity. "..Then if they aren't stolen memories, what are they?" 

Rick paused, a grimace forming across his lips. "Oh, _wow_ , Morty! Are you _really_ trying to earn a pet from the hand you just fucking bit? Why in the hell would I pour my soul out for you? There was a reason why I had that shit in my room. You should have stayed the fuck out of it." 

Morty found himself following Rick as he moved away from his work bench in favor for the opposing wall holding all sorts of supplies and weaponry, clearly ready to end the conversation. 

"Rick, it won't matter if you erase my memories afterwards." Morty reminded him. "So why hold back? You could literally tell me anything and then take it all away." 

Rick wordlessly extended an arm and pointed at the door leading out of the garage and back into the house. 

Morty followed his gaze, and his brows furrowed in indignation. "N-no Rick! You're not getting out of this, you n–" 

"Open the door." his grandpa ordered. 

Every bone in his body demanded he argue but he knew it would be pointless. Morty let out a hiss of annoyance. "I knew you'd be this stubborn." He stormed across the garage with rage rippling through every step. "I hope you're happy, Rick. I should've known you'd get your way even if you're the one in the wrong." 

Without anything else to say, Morty at last met the door. He angrily went to unbolt the lock, and found his hand gliding straight through it. He sucked in a breath of surprise, his eyes widening into saucers. 

"What t-the hell?!" he yelped, immediately withdrawing his hand. "Am I... are we..?" 

"Dead? I wish." 

Morty shot Rick a glare. "No! I mean, are we still ghosts? Does that mean our bodies are still somewhere?!" 

_"'Ghosts?'_ Damn, when did that term come into play? How many times do I have to repeat it: we aren't dead, moron." Rick strolled over to the door without another word, calmly shoving Morty to the side before passing through it entirely. 

Morty held his tongue as he hurriedly followed.

Just as he stepped into Rick's cluttered room, he found himself looking straight down at his own unconcious body. It was an odd sight, seeing himself lie there, but it wasn't the first time seeing himself in such a matter. The only difference now, was that he was very much alive. Morty shifted his gaze to the other presence in the room. 

Just a stride away was Rick's body, lying flat on his back, dead to the world in blissful stupefaction.

Morty gulped. 

"Time to go back to reality, Ebenezer," Rick's voice rattled Morty out of his thoughts, making him jump slightly. "To return to your body, simply make contact with it, like so," Rick knelt down on one knee in front of his soulless form, before laying a bony hand onto his shoulder. Immediately, there was a flash of white, almost identical to a camera flash, and Rick was no longer at Morty's side. 

The lifeless looking corpse of his grandpa suddenly rose, and Morty gasped. Rick, now back in his body, stalked over to where Morty's body lay, before bending down an examining something in the boy's hand. 

Morty, still in his ghost-like form, watched silently. What was Rick doing? 

"I'll be taking this back," Rick said aloud as he pried the small gadget holding the memory vial from the sleeping Morty's fingers. "Okay, you're turn."

"I won't let you get away with this, Rick! This isn't over!" Morty snapped, crossing his arms as he approached himself. 

Rick looked over in the opposite direction, unibrow forming a straight line above his bored eyes. "And if you're trying to talk to me right now, you're dumb as fuck. You of all people should know that people active in their own realities can't hear or see you. Hurry up and get over here." 

Realizing that his words were falling on deaf ears, Morty extended a shaking index finger towards his own limp body, fearful of what would happen next. Would it be painful? What if it didn't work like it had for Rick? What if... 

Morty's hand brushed against the fabric of his own yellow shirt, and at once he was swallowed in darkness. 

• 

Morty blinked awake, instantly sitting up with a gasp. Tiny beads of sweat were clinging to his brow as he groggily shook himself out of unconsciousness, fear of being infinitely trapped as an unfeeling spectator of foreign memories at last subsiding into a distant worry. He was safe. He was back in his own skin. Everything was just as it had been before. 

Except now, he had new knowledge of his mother's past. He rose to his feet with an unsatisfied huff, eyes piercing into the back of his grandpa who sat carelessly on the edge of his cot. 

"Where is it?" Morty asked blankly, his brows furrowed. "Why do you have random vials of memories if they aren't wiped? Why keep them hidden here if Mom still has them? What even is the point..?" Morty trailed, realization suddenly dawning on him.

Rick's behavior all this time... it all made sense. Morty's fist went lax as he uttered his next question, a new insight suddenly taking the form of words."Wait, are you actually having _regrets?"_

Rick leaned back on the cot, earning a groan from its rusty springs. "I don't know, Morty, am I? You did enough poking around in here," he gestured to the small cluttered space of his room with open arms, "I'm surprised you didn't find Cleopatra's tomb buried in those _super_ high shelves." 

Morty rolled his eyes despite telling himself not to take the bait of Rick's sarcasm. "Very funny. My question still stands. Why?"

Rick stood up and Morty at once noticed that the amber vial containing his mother's memories was no longer in his hand, but an entirely different vial altogether. 

Blue liquid bubbled calmly within its glass prison. 

"You want answers, Morty? Here. Take them." Rick roughly shoved the memory cube into Morty's clumsy hands, spit flying briefly from his lips. "But don't come crying back to me when your head goes under the water." 

And with that, his grandpa handed him the small glass vial of cyan liquid and left them room. Morty remained grounded in front of the cot, eyes glued to his hands with growing curiosity. 

He turned the vial over to reveal a label with scribbled writing. Morty squinted, holding the glass tube up to his eyes in fascination. His stomach dropped and his brows rose as he read the label:

_My regrets._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry for the delay! '^^ hope you guys are still interested in this story XD
> 
> -van~☆


	7. • holographic hopes •

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> morty meets hologram rick

Dinner was... different. 

Rick had carried out the rest of his day after saving Morty's ass like nothing had happened, but deep within the crevice of his mind, he couldn't stop thinking about how much shit had gotten out of hand. 

He stabbed his fork into his porkchop with gritted teeth hidden behind pressed lips. Eyes were burning holes into him. He knew _exactly_ who they belonged to. 

Morty sat across from him, head aimed down at his plate, feigning interest in his food. His eyes however were staring daggers at his grandpa. Rick's brow sunk in concentration as he picked up his dinner knife. 

"So, how was your adventure?" 

Rick's knife glided subconsciously back and forth into the porkchop, Beth's attempt at conversation falling on deaf ears. 

_You gave him the vial. Fuckin' dumbass. You gave him the fuckin' vial.._

"Dad?" 

_I hope it's worth it in the end.._

"Grandpa Rick!"

The knife screeched as it grinded cleanly through the tough meat and into the ceramic white plate, at once jerking Rick from his thoughts. Summer and Beth were staring back at him in concern.

"W-What? It–it was fine," he stammered a reply rather swiftly despite just tuning in to the conversation. "It was just the usual, y'know? Hardly an adventure." 

Rick naturally glanced over at Morty to find him staring down at his plate with a blank expression. Rick clenched his fist and he immediately noticed a small brush of purple had formed on his grandson's cheek. Guilt slammed full force into his gut, and Rick found himself no longer interested in the contents of his dinner, not like he was hungry anyways. 

Jerry seemed to decide it was time to make his presence known from the end of the table. "Morty, is there something wrong, son?" he asked in a fake, overly concerned tone fathers only use in family sitcoms. "You've hardly touched your food." 

Morty blinked rapidly, and Rick wanted nothing more than to disappear. This shit wasn't going to stay a secret at this rate. Rick honestly had just assumed that Morty wouldn't say anything anyways, but he was absolute shit at hiding body language. He should've figured that spending the entire day in Beth's memory would've moved his emotional ass in some way. 

Rick pretended not to notice the growing suspicion between family members. Bitterly, he forced himself to take a bite of green beans to hide his growl. 

"Oh, uh, I j-just didn't get alot of sleep last night." Finally came Morty's reply, and Rick resisted the urge to kick his grandson's foot under the table. 

_That's the best excuse you could come up with?_ Rick cursed to himself as he held back a groan of frustration. 

Summer suddenly abandoned her fork for her phone, immediately gaining the family's attention. "Oh my God, Salena is _seriously_ having a party right now? Without _me?_ Ugh, Mom, can I please go?" 

"Summer, you and I both know, you _hate_ Salena–" 

"But you and I both know, that I _love_ parties!" 

" _Annnd_ if you'd ever pay attention in math class, you would know that a positive and a negative cancel each other out. So the answer is ' _no_.' Go study for your test or something." 

"O-m-g, Mom, that is sooo _'Nancy.'"_

"Well, isnt that Nancy in the background of that picture?" 

"Wait, what?!" 

Grateful that the spotlight had shifted off of Morty's bullshit, Rick excused himself from the table with a grunt of a approval to Beth. He noticed out of the corner of his eye, that Morty had done the same, quickly abandoning the previous discussion without a second to spare. 

He rushed past Rick and dumped his plate into the sink before swiftly ascending upstairs to his room without a word. 

Rick finally muttered a curse. This was going to be a long night. 

• 

Morty locked his door. 

This was it. Sitting diligently on his desk was the fateful vial and memory cube, just where he had left them, waiting on _him._

Morty found himself contemplating his next move. Should he blindly waltz into this? A part of him urged him to prepare for the journey, as fucked up as he knew it would be. What little bit of Beth's memory he had been through was already enough to have him question everything. He could hardly _imagine_ how much worse Rick's would be.. 

"You should know a lock doesn't do jack shit." 

Morty spun around with a sharp gasp, his heart jumping into his throat. Stepping casually out of a portal was just who he had expected, and yet he still felt shocked even as the green pool vanished. 

"I wasn't trying to keep you out," Morty replied evenly, forcing himself to relax. He faced the desk. "I just didn't want someone–" 

"Whatever." Rick interrupted rudely. "I didn't ask. I came in here to give you some shit before you go and assault my mind." With that, his grandpa handed him a satchel-like bag filled to the brim with gadgets and gear. 

Morty looked into the bag with wide eyes. "W-what? I thought you didn't care if I got into trouble? And uh, there _w-will_ be trouble?" he added worriedly, already starting to have some regrets of his own. Maybe looking into these memories was a bad idea after all.. 

Rick let out a snort. "Don't play stupid. You of all people should know that memory jumpin' isn't exactly safe." 

Morty's stomach dropped as the bag fell from his hands and onto the carpet. An image of the monstrous ~~_Rick_~~ suddenly came to mind. "Y-you knew about that-that?" his voice quivered slightly as he shrunk in on himself. "W-why didn't you tell me about that beforehand?" 

"Uh, gee, I dunno, Morty, you didn't exactly let me know _'beforehand'_ that you'd be scrounging around in my room like a fuckin' cat burglar. I must've forgotten to tell you after the fact that _you_ literally sent us through a wormhole of shit." Rick shot back, his brow forming an angry 'V' atop his eyes. 

Morty gritted his teeth. "What was that thing? It literally tried to _kill_ me!" 

Rick shrugged, bending down to pick up the satchel. " _Everything_ tries to kill you. The whole point is to _not_ die." 

A realization suddenly dawned on Morty as Rick put the bag on him and fastened the strap. "W-wait, are you not coming with me?" he asked, a new fear causing his voice to shake. "I have to go by myself?" 

"I physically can't, Morty." Rick explained, spinning his grandson around to adjust the bag on him as if he were preparing him for school. "You can't revisit your own memories if you still literally have them. This isn't a mind blower. These memories still exist in my mind."

Morty found himself raising a brow in confusion. "Then why keep the vial?" 

Rick gave him a hard look, hands resting in a grandfatherly way on his shoulders. "Doesn't matter. It's already taken a shit ton of self control for me to not snatch that vial back, so don't push _\--uuuurp!_ \-- it." his gaze shifted down to the bag. "Besides, I've got to keep things steady here. After your little stunt at dinner, I'm sure at least one of your dopey parents will be waltzing in here wondering what's up. Here, I've got some stuff in here that you can use. See that little cube in there?" 

Morty peeked into the open bag, at once noticing a small, cyan coloured box about the size of a rubix cube sitting nestled among other gadgets. He nodded, withdrawing it completely from the satchel to get a better look. It was made completely out of metal and on its face was a small reflective button. "What's this?" Morty pondered, running his thumb lightly over the silver key in curiosity. 

"It has a similar function to that chip I had installed in your spine a little while back," Rick elucidated with a smirk. "And honestly I find it waaaaay more effective. Y-you see, with a push of that button, this little device will emit a superintelligent AI of yours truly," he beckoned to himself with a prideful wink. "It won't actually be me, but it's close enough. I can monitor you better that way and tune in from time to time. Like I said earlier, its existing memories so I can't do much tampering. If I step over the line, it will almost immediately cut off the flow of memory, resulting in an immature return home which can be super dangerous." 

"So, a hologram?" Morty queried, turning over the box in his hand. 

"More or less. Once you enter the memory, you in a sense, become a hologram, so to each other, you'll be tangible." 

"What's all this other stuff in here?" 

"Just some simple gadgets that you could use to get out of any sticky situations, mainly. There's a ray blaster here but these things aren't invincible. They've got limited ammunition, just as any weapon does. Only use it if you have to." 

Morty looked down at the AI cube, his anxiety levels rising. Why did Rick feel the need to give him all of this stuff? Was he really walking into something that life-threatening? It made him want to call everything off and to pretend he hadn't known about the memory vials to begin with. But at the same time, it almost felt as if his grandpa _wanted_ him to investigate. Rick would never admit it of course, and Morty knew that. 

Morty stuffed the cube back into the crowded bag. He had to do this. Not only for himself and his family. But for his grandpa too. 

"I'm ready." 

• 

Just as Morty had expected, everything was white as soon as he clicked the vial into the slot. Rick had left the room beforehand, saying something along the lines of _"I hope you find what you're looking for."_

Now, a familiar fiery pain. 

Morty let out a gasp as fire coursed through his body, his fingers clenching and unclenching in silent agony. Why was it so terribly painful? Just like clockwork, Morty felt himself tip backwards, and just as last time, he was abruptly thrown forward. At once, the light was gone, and the pain eventually resided. 

Morty slowly opened his eyes with a groan, his head spinning like a top. He was sitting upright against Rick's workbench. He was in the garage. Voices were muffled in his ears. _His_ voice.. 

"...could you?–you abandoned her for so long!...she went home one day and you weren't there. She–" 

_Slap!_

The unmistakable sound of the back of a hand striking bare skin rung clearly in Morty's ears, jerking him out of his haze. 

Standing just next to him was Rick, his front facing away as he delivered the backhanded slap that burned Morty's cheek only hours ago. 

There was silence. 

Morty rose to his feet, his grogginess forgotten as he watched on from this new perspective. Just as he expected, standing a couple of feet away was _himself._

The Morty was holding back tears, staring straight into Rick's eyes with furious shock, completely oblivious to Morty as he spectated the very event he was just involved in. 

"I want to make something _very_ clear. Never, and I mean _never_ , talk to me like that ever again." 

Morty found his hand slip instinctively into the satchel, fingers in search of the coolness of metal. He grabbed the cube, and without a second of hesitation, he pressed the silver button.

A bright column of white light shot out of the box almost immediately, startling Morty badly. In seconds, the tall column of light began to take shape, flickering slightly in effort it seemed. It wasnt long before the distinctive flicks of Rick's hair became more noticable in the trembling beam of light, and it took even less time for the rest of his body to take form. 

At last, the hologram stood before him, its light dimming down into a very iconic blue. The light based Rick's eyes suddenly blinked open. 

"Hello, I am _BACKUP Rick_ , under the operation of: Rick C-137. Please, state your name and dimension please." 

Morty nearly dropped the box in awe. "Uh, I-I'm Morty," he blurted, before quickly adding, "Morty _C-137!_ I'm Morty C-137." 

The hologram's eyes blinked rather robotically as it seemed to analyze the information, before at last looking down at him, a playful smirk tugging its lips. "Pfftt! _Ha!_ Did you really think I was a robot? Didn't your Rick tell you? I'm a superintelligent AI! You should know the drill. I heard this isn't the first instance in which your Rick had to use holographic technology." Hologram Rick pointed at his forehead with a quirked brow, obviously referring to the incident in which Morty had stolen a death crystal. Morty's brows rose in indignation.

"Well, jeez, you really are as big a douche as Rick, huh?" he huffed, crossing his arms with a pout. 

"I mean, we are, in a sense, the same person. Well, sorta.. us AI Ricks are programmed to be more tolerant and understanding. We also comprehend emotions better. A bit of an upgrade from our real counterparts, eh?" 

Morty shrugged. "I guess. H-honestly, I'm just glad that Rick thought ahead and packed all this stuff." he briefly looked past the hologram to watch the scene in the garage continue to unfold. "I just don't know what to expect next.." 

"Don't worry, Morty," Hologram Rick assured him, genuine confidence forming his words. "You'll be safe with me around. Just remember that your Rick merely wants what's best for you, even if it means seeing all of this." he beckoned to their two memory counterparts in the garage as they dispersed, the heat from their argument still present in the room. Memory Morty had left, leaving Memory Rick alone in the space with nothing but bitter words between them. 

Rick suddenly let out a yell of anguish, chaotically spinning around to swipe his arms across the counter harboring dozens of gadgets and beakers, at once sending them shattering to the ground. He collapsed onto his work bench with his fingers dug tightly into his hair, shoulders tense and shaking.

It was incredibly eerie to watch. Morty blinked, averting his gaze.

He could already tell the memory was about to end and instantly he started to fear what was next. Obviously these memories weren't going to be in chronological order, meaning things were about to get very random. He adjusted the bag on his shoulder as the world around them began to flake away into nothingness. He gritted his teeth, preparing for the worst. 

"It's going to be okay," Hologram Rick's voice sounded suddenly at his side. "I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone's interested in chatting with me on ig abt my story or rick and morty in general, let me know! ^w^
> 
> anyways, I really hope you guys are enjoying this story! 
> 
> -van~☆


	8. • in your head •

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> morty and holo rick find themselves inside a closet. rick contemplates it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiya! hope everyone is having a great day! tw for this chappie:
> 
> • child abuse

Rick would like to say that for the most part, he kept his word. Was he the most honest being in the universe? No. But he held his promises. Maybe that's why he made sure he made _less_ of them...

His fingers expertly unscrewed the lid of his flask as he doused his raging mind with yet _another_ swig of alcohol. He had left Morty's room hours ago, and yet he still felt the need to check on the boy. He forced himself to stay in the garage. 

As soon as his grandson had activated the memory cube and rendered himself unconscious, Rick had made sure he was quick to hide the evidence from the rest of the family. Effortlessly, he had gathered the boy up and dumped him into his bed, neatly draping a comforter over him while simultaneously adjusting his head to rest naturally on the pillow. Rick had stepped back to analyze his work, before finally huffing a sigh. From an outside perspective, Morty simply looked asleep. Perfectly staged to keep anyone from asking questions. Rick was getting tired of them; he had enough of his own anyways. 

After he had left Morty's room, Rick's best option of distraction was his garage, where he felt as though he had nearly just as many incomplete projects as he had completed ones. But within hardly half an hour of useless tampering with a screwdriver in one hand and his flask in the other, Rick abandoned the idea with a drunken snarl. He went to take another swig before realizing that his flask was empty again. Growing both aggravated and inebriated, Rick chucked the screwdriver across his lab with a roar of frustration. His flask soon followed. 

"What the fuucck..." he groaned to himself, fingers digging into his flicked hair in desperation. He wanted to disappear. He wanted to leave. He didn't expect to feel this bad about giving up the vial, but at the same time, Rick really didn't expect to give it up either. Already he was starting to have regrets, imagine that. 

Despite his usual immorality and crudeness, Rick truly did find himself fearing for his grandson's well being. Beth's memories were pretty mundane in comparison to Rick's, so he could almost 100% guarantee that even with all of the gadgets and weaponry in Morty's possession, the boy was still bound to get in way over his head in trouble. He prayed that his AI system wouldn't fail him this time. 

_Are you really afraid of what might become of your family... or is it you're own reputation that's underfire?_

Shit. Rick knew he would start thinking this way. He fumbled in his pocket for his flask despite having thrown it across the room only minutes ago. His fingers clumsily latched onto the handle of a familiar weapon instead. 

Everything stopped as he withdrew the memory-wiping device. He looked at it thoughtfully. There was about a _million_ reasons for Rick to mindblow himself. So many instances in which he chose to remember when he could've easily erased the pain...the _agony._ He turned the gun over in shaking hands, until he found his bloodshot eyes fixated on the two cyan engines capable of taking it all. 

What would happen if he pulled the trigger? He asked himself that question alot, and he realized grimly that in most cases, he held quite a more _lethal_ weapon in his hand. Despite his bitterness, Rick's mind immediately painted a picture of his family. 

Beth. Such a strong little girl. He wanted to recall a moment in which her tiny eyes had shined with joy, but he just couldn't picture anything else beyond her tearstreaked cheeks and upturned brows. 

The gun neared his face, and Rick gritted his teeth. Morty was right. He was a shitty father. And more. He was a coward. A trembling old fool. A terrorist and a criminal. 

Not a father. Not a grandpa. Not anyone. _Worthless._

Rick revved up the gun, and immediately it emitted two quick beeps in warning. The two little engines whirled in effort as his finger neared the trigger. If he could just forget, he'd be a clean slate.. no more thoughts, no more regrets. Just a blank page for his family to write on. He would be their clay, and each of them could mold him into a perfect member of the family. 

Rick would regret nothing then. In fact, if he had chosen a different route–say, kill himself– he'd leave his family heartbroken. Desperate. Unguarded. In agony.. This way seemed more gentle. 

Rick's fingertip grazed the trigger, not yet applying enough pressure to set it off, but enough to send the hairs on the back of his neck on edge. 

_Think of your family. Their lives would be normal._ Despite feeling generous, Rick found himself also thinking of his own benefits. _You would be free. No more guilt.._

Suddenly, a tiny, muffled sound went off from on the counter behind him, and Rick glanced into the direction of the noise. His headset, which he had made to keep in contact with Morty, crackled again in response. 

_"HOLORICK AI MIC has been activated and is issuing a message. HOLORICK AI MIC has been activated and is issuing a message."_

Rick froze as a familiar voice suddenly stammered distantly through the headphones. 

"Hey, R-Rick? It's Morty.. Uh, I just wanted to let you know that I'm okay, and that this hologram thingy is working..I think.. uh, I d-don't know if you'll get this or not but I just w-wanted to test out some of the stuff and.. and um.." there was a pause, and Rick caught himself holding his breath. "I guess what I really wanted to say was... I-I'm so.." sniveling cut into his words, tears strangling his voice, "Grandpa Rick, _I'm_ _sorry."_

Rick dropped the gun. 

• 

There was footsteps. 

_Boom.._

"Morty? Morty!" 

_Boom.._

"Psst! Morty! Wake up, you little turd!" 

_Boom.._

Morty found himself jolting awake, eyes opening wide to immediately meet darkness. Before his fear could take hold, a dull but comforting blue light shone next to him out of his peripherals, at once allowing a breath of relief to escape him. 

"Jesus.. w-what happened? Where are we?" Morty was spitting out questions before he could even register whether he was standing or sitting. With a couple of deep breaths and a look around, he found he was the latter. "W-why is it so dark in here?" he asked, feeling the need to bring his voice down to a whisper as well. 

As soon as his eyes adjusted, Morty glanced to his left, where the dim blue light was being emitted. 

Hologram Rick was sitting next to him with both legs drawn up to his chest, a rather childish look for a Rick, he had to admit.

The hologram blinked, uncertainty clear within his light-based gaze. "We appear to be within another memory, if my memory serves me right," he gave Morty a corny smile, and Morty deflated with an annoyed groan. "Hey, don't be an asswipe, kid. You gotta keep things light sometimes." 

"Seems foreign for a Rick to keep things light," Morty huffed back skeptically. He found himself to be pressed against a wall and in a very, _very_ small space. He looked up, eyes squinting at the dark figures hanging just above his head. Clothes. 

"H-Hey, I t-think we're inside a close–" 

The door suddenly flung open, and at once, blinding light came flooding in. Morty let out a yelp of fear despite himself, and Hologram Rick flickered rapidly before disappearing entirely. There was a frantic shuffling sound as clothes were shoved aside, and then a small body crouched down into the space next to Morty before quickly shutting the door, sealing the closet back into darkness. 

Morty found himself holding his breath as silence claimed the tight space once more. A familiar twinge of anxiety trickled down his spine as he sat in total darkness, the closet now absent of Holo Rick's soft azure light. 

_Boom.._

Morty's eyes widened as the small form sitting next to him suddenly sucked in a sharp breath. Between him and this stranger, the entire closet had to be _rank_ with pure fear. Morty's eyes darted around uselessly as the footsteps got closer _and_ louder. With his heartbeat in his ears, Morty found himself gradually growing more and more panicked. He pressed up against the wall as the footsteps suddenly halted. 

A door in which Morty assumed was the door that lead into the room harboring their closet, suddenly sounded as though it was kicked open, at once causing Morty to flinch badly. His limbs ordered him to get out, but for some reason, he just couldn't bring himself move. 

"Really tryna' fucking hide, kid?" A gruff sounding voice suddenly exploded from the other side of the door, causing both Morty and the other occupant of the closet to curl even further into themselves in fear.

Morty blindly fumbled for the flap of his bag, fingers shaking as he continued his search in the dark. His breathing got quicker, and he found himself trembling violently for seemingly no reason. Why was he getting so worked up? It was just a memory; in fact, it wasn't even his. He wasn't the target of this man's rage, and yet he felt a familiar sense of apprehension rush down his spine.

_Smudge on the lens? Smudge on the lens?! I know the difference between a man threatening me, and a smudge on the goddamn lens, Summer!_

The closet suddenly felt smaller. It felt _so_ much smaller..

"M-Morty, buddy, _calm down,"_ there was a zap of blue light and instantly Holo Rick's voice sounded in his ear, quick but gentle. "There's nothing wrong, kid. It's just a memory. Nothing to be afraid of." 

Despite wanting to nod his head in agreement, Morty found himself letting out a sharp huff of indignation. "S-says you! Y-y-y-you're the one who l-left me behind!" he shot back, strained eyes finally finding the glowing Rick's face. He didn't realize he was clenching his fists until his palms started to sting, prompting him to shakily unfurl his fingers.

"Morty, that isn't what happened. The system must've just malfunctioned for a second. I'm not perfect, y'know." Hologram Rick explained gently, although Morty could detect a defensive edge to his words that was difficult to ignore. "You've got to understand that this system was more than likely a last minute project your Rick scrounged together in a drunken haze. I'm not a goddamn genie in a bottle, kid, I can glitch out from time to time." 

Morty shook his head in confused desperation, his fingers gripping his hair in exasperation. "I-I can't do this. I shouldn't have done this." he whispered, folding his arms over his face childishly.

There was a loud bang against the closet door that made everyone inside jump, and not even a second later did the door fly open, exposing them all to the outside. Morty went to scream, but the occupant of the closet beat him to it, voice shrill with terror. 

Now able to see his surroundings, Morty was quick to identify the small person huddling alongside him to be a small, scrawny little boy, probably 10 years old max. His shoulders were bowed back in what Morty thought was a mix of panic and defiance as he was jerked from the closet by the large intruder, causing Morty to both shrink away and watch on in cruel curiosity. 

Now that everything was under light, Morty was quick to notice that the large, towering man that had stormed in was covered in tattoos, as he donned a fairly shredded denim vest that showcased his scarred biceps. The man's face was slightly wrinkled with age and rusty coloured stubble patterned his jawline, making his skin look dark and dirty. In short, this man looked to be the living definition of 'thug' in Morty's mind. And that scared him more than he thought it would.

"Thought you could hide, eh, kid?" the thug, Morty decided to call him, snarled at the little boy as he pulled him completely out of the closet with one firm jerk. "I already fucking told you.. _ugh.._ that shit doesn't work with m-me." 

The boy let out a pained sound as he attempted to pry the large fingers gripping his forearm apart, while simultaneously digging his heels into the stained carpet in a futile attempt to hold his ground. "L-let me go! _Mama!"_ he seemed to call for someone, turning his head back and briefly allowing Morty to get a quick look at his face. 

Morty's breath audibly hitched in his throat at the sight. 

Unibrow. 

"I-Its... it's.." Morty stammered aloud, his words failing him. The terrified little boy.. it was _Rick._ Morty knew he shouldn't have been surprised, and yet it felt so surreal to see such a young version of his grandpa exist within his own time. This wasn't a _Tiny Rick_ type situation; this was _real._

Morty was suddenly jolted out his thoughts when the gruff sounding man let out a livid growl. 

_"'Let you go?'_ Are you s-serious?" The large man cackled, his brows drawn up with wicked disbelief. "Don't you get it? Your fucking _slut_ of a mother left. She's _gone._ _She's fucking gone!_ She doesn't care about you, me, the fucking world." He drew young Rick close by the collar of his shirt, forcing the boy to face him. "Didn't like my drinking. Didn't like the drugs. She said it was 'bad for the family' and yet she didn't take a second glance over her shoulder for you, did she?" When Memory Rick didn't reply, the man let out a snarl, throwing the boy to the ground before repeating himself, this time, even louder. _"Did she?!_ 'Fucking clearly abandoned your ass and yet you're still cryin' for Mama. Fucking worthless, you hear me?! Worthless!" The man, which Morty came to the unsettling conclusion to be Rick's father, proceeded to let out a belt of insults and curses, punctuating each word with a violent kick to young Rick's stomach. 

Morty nearly threw up. He felt sick. He wanted to look away; he wanted to shut his eyes tight and block everything out. But something kept him watching, _spectating_ the memory as if he were in a theater and it was simply a film. 

"W-What did you do to her, Papa?!" Rick's voice, high pitched with his young age and inflicted pain, broke through gritted teeth, a sound so raw that it sent icy chills down Morty's spine. It was _so_ hard to listen to. 

Another kick. 

"She-she-she loved us! Y-You're drunk! You're drunk!" 

Another kick. 

"Mama! _Mama!"_

Another kick. 

Holo Rick's hand suddenly rested on Morty' shoulder as the memory began to fade, prompting the boy to look away. Concern flashed deeply within the hologram's eyes as Morty's gaze met his, and before he could say a word, Morty cleared his throat.

"C-Call Rick." 

"M-Morty, you only get 3 calls, are you s–"

"Call. Rick."

Hologram Rick immediately obeyed, at once giving up awareness to take the message, his pupils vanishing completely as he entered an almost robotic state. There was a ping prompting the start of his message and Morty found himself scrambling for words.

With a limited amount of time to talk and with so much to say, he began to ramble. When he finally sent the message, tears were streaming down his face despite how much effort he had put in to holding them back. 

"Morty, buddy.. you holding up okay?" Hologram Rick, now free from his trance, attempted once more to comfort him with look of worry.

Morty slowly turned to look at him, relieved to find the world around them was slowly being swallowed by light. Despite the fact that the memory was ending, he could still hear the _screams_ , the _punches,_ the _kicks..._

"I-I"m fi–"

Morty finally threw up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so big notes on this one:
> 
> i honestly have no doubt in my mind that rick's home life sucked ass. i'm not really proud of how i wrote it here, but i suppose it works..
> 
> also i wanted to briefly mention that I also think that the line morty says in 'morty's mindblowers' is definitely connected to the events of 'meeseeks and destroy' but that's just me 🤷
> 
> what do you guys think? anyways, stay tuned for the next chapter! 
> 
> van~☆


	9. • pretend •

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> someone enters morty's room late at night; holo rick and morty are being followed

Rick didn't know what time it was when he woke up. 

That's nothing new with him, Morty would probably say, and maybe he was right. Didn't matter though. What mattered, was that his half-assed security system he last minute installed at Morty's door was going off via his wristwatch. 

Someone was trying to open the door to Morty's room. 

Rick scrambled off of the floor of the garage, _(he found that he had fallen asleep leaned against the counter)_ his legs the equivalent of jello as he got to his feet. His hand naturally plunged into his labcoat to locate his portal gun, and in a second flat, he was stepping into Morty's bedroom just as the doorknob made its first complete twist. 

The room, being absent of windows and lights, was nearly pitch black save for the glowing green portal that Rick had just stepped out of and of course, a small orange nightlight that Morty _insisted_ had no sentimental value to him whatsoever and yet it always remained plugged in. Not that it mattered. Rick could see quite well in the dark thanks to his robotically modified eye, and he had no trouble making his way around the random items and furniture that riddled Morty's floor. 

Just as the door was pushed in, Rick grabbed hold of the handle, and without a second to spare, he quickly pulled the door open, tugging the intruder along with it. 

Within a blink of an eye, his other hand shot forward and gripped the wrist of the snooper, and in even less time he swiftly hauled them inside the room before expertly shutting the door with his heel. 

The intruder expectedly struggled within his grasp, and Rick knew that a scream was merely seconds away from being emitted. Not wanting to risk things escalating, Rick quickly slapped a hand over their mouth and leaned forward. 

"Chill the fuck out," he hissed, before subsequently adding, _"Beth."_

At his words, there was a indignant sound, muffled by his hand but audible enough for Rick to get the idea. Without the need to keep her restrained, he let her go, and prepared for the worst. 

Despite the darkness, Rick could very clearly see Beth's wide eyes narrow upon realizing she was in the presence of her own father, and not a deranged kidnapper. With a deep breath, she let out a sigh. 

"Dad, what the hell–" 

"Save it, sweetie." He quickly interrupted, voice dropped down and prompting his daughter to do the same. "There's a ton of shit going on right now that I'd rather not have to explain to the _entire_ fucking family." 

Beth shifted her weight, arms instinctively crossing. _"What's_ going on?" there was a firmness in her voice that Rick had expected in regards of her son, but it didn't make him any less impressed. Her eyes flickered over to the bed, and Rick immediately noticed her brows raise. "Morty? Honey?" 

"Beth, j-just let me explain–" 

His daughter shoved past him, her face set in determination as she closed in on the bed. It took her less than two seconds to pull back the sheets, and half the time to come to the conclusion that her son was not merely asleep. A fiery scowl replaced her look of worry then, making even Rick shrink back. "What the fuck is wrong with Morty?!" 

Rick held out his hands in defense, gently shushing her. "Shh, listen, if you'd just shut up for a second–" 

"Is he okay? What did you do--Dad, _what_ _happened?"_

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose in aggravation. "Beth, just... just listen to me, okay? I-I can't fully explain the situation if you literally won't let me." 

Beth, now sitting on the edge of the bed, face just barely illuminated by the tiny amber nightlight, was looking at Rick with an unreadable expression. She instead busied herself by fiddling with Morty's hair as he slept, awaiting Rick's promised explanation.

Rick found himself feeling quite uncomfortable under his daughter's piercing gaze, but he'd never let it show. Instead, he jumped into his thoughts, quickly debating whether he should 100% spill the beans, or keep some details to himself. Rick tried to imagine Beth's reaction to each scenario, but even he found himself stammering under her leer. 

"Look, this morning, I found Morty in my room meddling around, and he _may_ have found something that _might_ have something to do with..." he trailed, already wanting to backtrack and start over, but too far along to even chance it. ".. _you.?_ " 

From what Rick could tell, Beth's expression did not change after the revelation. But what he did notice, was that her dainty fingers had stopped subconsciously stroking Morty's curls, and had instead retreated to her lap. 

"Dad.." her eyes looked so shiny with tears, but not a single drop fell from her lashes. "Please, just.." 

It was clear that she was struggling, and it made Rick hurt even more when he realized that he always played a role in those struggles. He discreetly clenched his teeth under pressed lips. 

"Just... make sure Morty doesn't miss school tomorrow, okay? He's got a big test that's worth 25% of his grade for the semester." 

Rick would never admit it to anyone that he was completely taken aback by Beth's request. He was even more so when his daughter simply stood up, tucked Morty back in, and made her way back across the room and towards the door. 

"Drop the front, Beth," Rick turned to stop her, voice still low. "You don't have to act like you're not even the slightest bit interested in–" 

"It doesn't matter," Beth swiftly interjected, and Rick instantly heard himself in her voice. "Dad, it's fine, just make sure that Morty's okay, _okay?"_

Beth's fingers were just wrapping around the doorknob when Rick sputtered without thought.

"Look, I'm sorry." 

Everything seemed to stop and silence seized the space between them with icy claws. Beth slowly turned around to face him, her brows scrunched in confusion. 

_"W-What?"_

Rick sighed, before beckoning his daughter away from the door, mind racing. He always told himself that he'd make time to apologize to his daughter about the past someday, but it was never his top priority. Mainly because he didn't know exactly _how._ He honestly believed that he could blabber for hours and it still wouldn't change a thing for either of them. 

And yet there he was, staring straight into his daughter's eyes, the fateful words just barely making the jump from his tongue to her ears. No turning back now.

He quietly strode over to Morty's desk, before picking up the accompanying chair and bringing it near the bed, prompting Beth to take a seat. She did so without a word, much to Rick's relief. In turn, he decided to take her previous place on the edge of the bed before facing her with long sigh. 

"You heaa _‐-uuurp--_ rrd me," he finally replied, careful not to let his voice get too loud. "I'd rather not have to repeat myself." 

Beth ran a hand through her hair as she seemed to prepare herself for what he had to say. "Dad, you don't know how long I've waited for you to even remotely _utter_ an apology... and that scares– no, _terrifies_ me." Her eyes flitted from the floor to his face and back again. "And for that reason, I've just been so satisfied without it. W-which brings me to ask you this, _Dad,"_ there is a sharpness to her tone that leaves Rick reeling in guilt. _"Why?_ Why now? What could possibly make you feel the need to apologize 20 years down the line?" 

"Beth, its alot more complicated than tha–" 

"Then tell me. Tell me why you're _'sorry.'"_ Her gaze shifted past him before settling on her son. "I'm listening." 

Rick wanted his flask so fucking badly. But his hand did not slip into his pocket to retrieve it, instead, his fingers enclosed around a glass tube. The tiniest _tink!_ sounded as he passed the vial to his daughter, its amber contents glowing warmly in the darkness of the room. 

Beth's face grew rigid as she read her name on the label of the vial. She met his hardened gaze with a look that instantly through Rick back in time. Betrayal. Fear. Abandonment. 

Before she could say a word, Rick held out his hand, demanding the tube back. "Y'know, Morty had the same exact look on his face when he found this," he noted aloud as he took the vial back. "I see alot of you in him, Beth. He was so damn persistent to find dirt on me, and it made me realize that you had to feel the same way. The only difference is that you're better at pretending than he is." Rick finally looked her in the eye, his face revealing nothing. "And so am I."

•

Blue. 

Everything was... _blue._

Morty came to realize that he felt absolutely no pain. He felt safe. Secure. He almost forgot about everything that had happened. Nothing mattered. Morty felt completely surrounded in blissful carelessness, and he briefly wondered if this was what Rick felt like after a swig too many. 

"Morty, we're entering another memory," Holo Rick's voice sounded nearby, but Morty found that he was no where to be seen. In fact, the only thing he could see was the colour blue.

"W-Where are y–" 

"I've created a bit of force field around you. It's not very strong, but it makes memory jumping no where near as painful. Just sit tight, okay?" 

Morty hummed in compliance, still feeling disoriented. He felt so sick still. It took a moment to realize he had thrown up on himself, and he cringed in disgust when he realized the front of his shirt was slightly stained with his own vomit. "Ugh.." he groaned, instantly wishing to clean himself up.

"You're telling me," the forcefield vanished and Hologram Rick flickered into existence, his unibrow quirked. "Nearly stepped in it and everything." 

Morty clutched his elbow, not really feeling light enough to joke around. "Y-yeah, sorry.." 

Hologram Rick seemed to notice, as he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Its okay, buddy, I was just playing. I understand that this isn't easy for you." 

"It's fine." Morty replied sternly, rubbing his eyes with a yawn. "Rick told me what I was getting into. I honestly should've expected this s-stuff by now." 

With nothing else to say, Morty rose to his feet to examine the surrounding area. He and Holo Rick were standing near an alleyway. Nothing much else stood out from there. In fact, minutes passed and there was still no signs of anyone. No Memory Ricks. No people. No anything.

Hologram Rick briefly tapped on Morty's shoulder, encouraging him to glance up at him. "Stay close, kid," he suddenly muttered lowly, his tone making Morty's stomach churn in apprehension. "Something's not right here." 

Not once had Holo Rick ever seemed to be alerted by their surroundings in this way, and that truly was worrying to Morty. He gulped and inched closer to the hologram, anxiousness returning once more to his young bones. Hologram Rick led the way down the alley, as standing outside it proved to be pointless in their quest for memory-footage. Morty was sure to remain close.

Despite the eerie silence, Morty found solace in the coolness of the nighttime air and the slight scraping sounds of their footsteps on the wet cobblestone as they journeyed further into the alley. Rain had most definitely fallen recently, he noted, resisting the urge to childishly stomp in a puddle as he walked past it.

Looking up, Morty noticed the sky was incredibly crisp and glittering with thousands of beautiful stars, a sight he had grown to dismiss with the chaotic bustle of life. It was comforting to know that despite anything that could happen, no matter where he was or how he felt, the sky would always look the same. In space or on Earth, Morty's constant was the stars. For the first time in a while, Morty allowed a tiny smile to tug against his lips.

It wasn't until Holo Rick's arm shot out in front of him did Morty's face shrink back into a fearful expression, at once causing his warm thoughts to retreat back into the shadows of his mind. 

_"Get down!"_

Everything happened too fast for Morty to react. One second Morty was standing, the next, he was hunkered down on his knees and elbows, teeth gritted as Holo Rick crouched over him protectively. 

A fiery white beam of plasma whizzed by just half a second later, so close in fact that Morty felt the warmth of the laser. The shot undoubtedly would've vaporized his skull had Holo Rick not shoved him down in time. 

Hologram Rick was quick to get up before hurriedly lifting Morty to his feet, eyes wide and unibrow furrowed as he gazed back down the alleyway to pin their assailant. 

Morty quickly followed his line of sight, and instantly his heart stopped. He wished he could pretend he had imagined what he saw next.

Standing at the end of the waterlogged alleyway was a tall, thin figure with its arm extended and holding a plasma pistol that blended in to its hand. Black goop dripped from its form, and an eerie groan scratched the walls of the passageway, one that Morty had hoped to never hear again.

_~~Rick.~~ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stay tuned! 
> 
> -van~☆

**Author's Note:**

> i hope the characters are in... well, character! '^^ do let me know if i should continue this :0


End file.
